Familiar Strangers
by Kathy Rose
Summary: Hoshi's in a mirror universe, but before she can go home, she has to overcome obstacles, including that universe's Captain Archer's decision to put her skills to use.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The whine from the engine was deafening. The stars were whirling dizzily past the forward viewscreen. No matter what Hoshi did, the controls wouldn't respond. The shuttlepod was spinning out of control and there was nothing she could do about it. She only had a moment to brace herself before the impact.

Then everything was gone.

* * *

_"Why won't she wake up?"_

The harsh voice intruded upon the silence in which she was cocooned, bringing her closer to consciousness. But for all the sharpness of it, she realized that while the question was about her, it wasn't directed toward her. She could sense others hovering around her.

_"I have no reason, Captain. Perhaps her injuries are too severe. She may have suffered brain damage in the crash."_

While the first voice had startled her by its intensity, this second voice, softer and mellifluous yet indifferent, scared her almost to the point of retreating into the silent place once more. The second person didn't care what happened to her; he was merely stating facts.

_"I need to find out what she was doing here, Doctor, but I won't be able to if she doesn't wake up."_

She could hear the implied threat in the sinister undertone. The speaker was a man who didn't like to be thwarted.

_"I could give her a stimulant. That would bring her around."_

That was the second voice again, the one the "Captain" had called "Doctor." He sounded intimidated. The captain must be a terrible person to have that effect on someone, she thought groggily.

_"Do it."_

_"I can't guarantee what effect the stimulant will have on her. She will regain consciousness, yes, but perhaps to her greater detriment."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Generally speaking, when a person doesn't wake after an injury, it means their body is still healing. To wake them prematurely could cause harm."_

_"Could it kill her?"_

For the first time, she heard uncertainty in the captain's voice. He was answered by silence on the part of the doctor. She wished he would answer. They were talking about her. She needed to know what was going on--

A cold pinprick touched her neck, followed by the hiss of an injection. She recognized the sound of a hypospray as her eyes fluttered open against her will. Her heart was racing, blood pounding in her temples.

"It worked," said a man she identified as having the captain's voice as he leaned over her. His cold green eyes held hers. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Her mouth worked but nothing came out. Her lungs strained to pull in air, but she couldn't breathe. Her chest felt tight. The edges of her vision began to blur.

As her mind started to slip away, she heard the doctor say, "She's having an allergic reaction to the stimulant!"

* * *

The sound woke her. She couldn't place it at first. It was a tinkling noise, like the high notes of a piano's keyboard. But the sound wasn't musical. It was clinky yet delicate, like wind chimes. Or something being stirred, with ice cubes bumping against glass.

Without opening her eyes, she turned her head in the direction of the sound. The slight movement elicited a moan from her. She ached all over, especially the back of her head. She hadn't been aware of the pain until she'd moved.

The clinking stopped. Through the slowly receding waves of pain she heard a new sound. Someone was nearby and was coming closer. Her body suddenly dipped, and she realized she was on a bed, the sheets crisp and cool around her. The person must have sat down on the bed next to her. In contrast to the soothing sheets, she could feel heat radiating from the body near hers.

"Awake?"

She could only moan in reply, but despite her discomfort, she recognized the voice. Thankful that it wasn't the doctor with her, she opened her eyes to see the man with the green eyes. The captain. She stared uncomprehendingly at him as he looked down at her.

"Where--?" It was all she could get out. Her throat, scratchy and dry, refused to cooperate.

"You're in my cabin," he told her. "I wasn't about to leave you to the doctor's care. He doesn't share my concern about you."

There was something ominous in those words. She blinked, trying to focus on his face.

He got up, went over to a table, and returned with a glass. He sat down next to her again and slid one muscled arm behind her to help her sit up far enough to sip some of the liquid from the glass. The first cautious taste from the glass he held to her lips revealed it was tea. Then she was drinking greedily, the ice-cold beverage relieving her parched throat.

He pulled the glass away. "Not too much at once," he said. "It might make you sick, and I'd rather you weren't sick in my bunk."

Startled, she leaned back as far as his arm would allow. He'd said she was in his cabin. It made sense, then, that the bed she was in was his. For some reason, that alarmed her. Coupled with that was the fact that she was in some sort of pajamas, and she didn't remember putting them on. Someone had to have done that for her. Afraid to look at his face, she watched his hand as he placed the glass on a small nightstand next to the bed. Still trapped in his embrace, she watched as that hand came to her chin, lifting it so that she had no choice but to look at him. She couldn't keep the trepidation she felt from showing on her face.

"I'm Jonathan Archer, captain of the Terran Imperial starship, _Enterprise_," he said, his green eyes glittering coolly. "And you're not getting out of my cabin until you tell me what I want to know."

She swallowed. It was all she could do; she was terrified of him.

His encircling arm pulled her closer until their faces were no more than two centimeters apart. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I'm..." she squeaked. "I'm..." she tried again, then blinked. She stared unseeingly at him, her thoughts turned inward as she searched for the answer. Unable to find it, her eyes went wide as she focused on him again. "I don't know who I am."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Archer stared at the viewscreen. He wasn't looking at the stars rushing by, for his thoughts were elsewhere. The bridge crew, picking up on his bad mood, went about their duties silently. When they had to speak, their tones were hushed. No one wanted to draw the captain's attention when his disposition was such that he'd already put two crewmen on report simply for failing to salute when he'd stepped onto the bridge.

The captain usually wasn't petty. Of all the ship commanders in the Terran Imperial fleet, he was the one they most wanted to serve with. He had a reputation of being fair, which was something of an oddity in the empire. There were times, however, when he could make the most tyrannical captains look tame. Now was one of those times.

The scuttlebutt had already spread of the mystery woman in the captain's cabin. They'd come across the small craft she'd been piloting in the restricted zone just as it had crashed into one of the asteroids. If their egotistical doctor was to be believed, he'd saved her life from injuries she'd sustained in the crash. That he'd almost killed her with his treatment was also general knowledge, although he could be excused on the grounds that he'd been ordered to do it. No one would dare contradict the captain when he insisted.

The woman's craft was a puzzle. It didn't match any ship's specs in the Imperial database. What was left of it was in one of the launch bays, where Commander Tucker, the chief engineer, was analyzing it with the help of Commander T'Pol, the only Vulcan in the crew.

The intercom panel on the command chair's armrest signaled. Every eye went to the captain as he answered the page. "Go ahead."

"I've finished my preliminary analysis of the vessel, sir," came Tucker's voice.

Archer didn't bother to respond. He thumbed off the connection, rose to his feet, and headed for the turbolift.

There was a collective sigh of relief on the bridge as the turbolift door shut behind him.

* * *

Tucker, scanner in hand, was standing near a large piece of the wreckage when Archer entered the launch bay. T'Pol, the science officer, was at a work station using a microscanner on a smaller piece. Archer was pleased to sense tension between the two.

Archer had learned long ago that the best way to keep his subordinates in check was to pit them against each other, thereby lessening his own status as a target. Tucker was very talented, perhaps the best engineer in the fleet, but there were areas where T'Pol's scientific expertise surpassed Tucker's abilities. Even though they had the same rank, Tucker was T'Pol's superior by virtue of seniority, but Archer relied more often on T'Pol's counsel than Tucker's. Archer knew Tucker was jealous of that, but more importantly, the engineer was often frustrated, and the cause of his frustration was T'Pol. While this would have been enough to keep the engineer occupied with thoughts other than that of mutiny, there was an added bonus as far as Archer was concerned. Tucker desired T'Pol, and in wanting her, would make no overt move to harm her.

Archer also knew that T'Pol resented being outranked by someone as boorish and, to her way of thinking, emotionally immature as Tucker. She would never willingly enter into a partnership with him. What Tucker didn't know was that Archer kept T'Pol in line with certain privileges, and threatened to take them away when her loyalty showed the slightest hint of wavering.

Archer was just waiting for T'Pol's next pon farr to come around. The fireworks between the two commanders ought to be something to see, although such a relationship could have serious consequences for him if she and Tucker did decide to work together to stage a shipboard coup.

"Report!" he said as he joined Tucker.

"There's nothing in our database that corresponds with this shuttle," Tucker said. "It looks a lot like one of ours, but there are differences."

Archer glared at him. Had Tucker called him down here to tell him something he already knew?

Tucker glanced up from the scanner, saw Archer's harsh expression, and hastily gestured toward the wreckage. "This didn't come from around here."

Archer's eyes narrowed in displeasure. "Tell me something I don't know."

"What Commander Tucker is not saying is where it did come from," T'Pol said. Her expression appeared smug as she added, "It comes from another universe."

Archer's irritation vanished. He'd read the reports some months ago of the discovery of an advanced starship that had been found only three light years from their current position. At first he'd scoffed at the idea that it had come from another universe. How the empire's scientists could be certain of that? But T'Pol had waded through all the technical mumbo-jumbo in the reports and had pronounced it plausible, although highly unlikely. Something about a set of unusual conditions being absolutely perfect and so on. He hadn't paid much attention to the details, but in matters such as this, he believed her. She had no reason to lie, and every reason to be honest with him. He'd long ago seen to that when he'd spared her mother's life, having her put in an Imperial work camp instead of in front of an execution squad.

All this passed through his mind in a flash before his thoughts went to the woman in his cabin. "That means our guest is from another universe."

"It is most likely," T'Pol said.

Tucker angled to get his attention. "There's some technology here we might be able to use," he said.

Archer turned back to him. "Such as?"

Archer didn't miss the smirk Tucker gave T'Pol before addressing him. Tucker enjoyed besting the Vulcan in front of their commanding officer. "From what I can tell, some sort of alloy I've never seen before is used as a shield on vital systems." He picked up a piece of charred circuitry. "If this had been in one of our shuttlepods, there wouldn't be even this much left."

"Can you isolate the alloy? Figure out its compounds?" Archer asked, already envisioning a stronger _Enterprise_ and how that would work to his advantage.

"I might. But, as much as it pains me to say it--" A sly look came over the engineer's face as he glanced in T'Pol's direction. "--I might need some help."

Archer wasn't fooled. Despite his jealousy, Tucker wanted to be near the Vulcan. In this case, they'd both be working on a project for him, and if Archer didn't see results, they'd both be punished. He knew that by working together, they'd be more productive than working individually on the same thing. "T'Pol, give the Commander a hand."

* * *

The captain had left her alone is his cabin. She wasn't sure he'd believed her when she said she couldn't remember her name or how she'd come to be here. She'd been relieved when he'd left, despite hearing the click of a lock engaging as the door shut behind him. If he was worried she'd escape, she had news for him. She was so weak she doubted she could make it across the room, much less out of the bed.

He'd said she was on a starship. Where would she go if she did manage to wander off, she thought numbly. At least he'd left the glass of tea next to the bed. She finished it and settled back into the pillow. She drifted off to slumber, her battered body demanding that she sleep, but also wondering if he'd drugged her drink. She felt so lethargic.

Her sleep wasn't peaceful. When the sound of the door opening awakened her, she was shaking and covered in cold sweat, the remnants of a dream clouding her mind.

The captain had returned, but he wasn't alone. He was followed by a strange looking man in a dark tunic and trousers. From the black bag the newcomer was carrying, she deduced that he was a doctor. Her impression of him when she'd first heard his voice, that he was cold and uncaring, was reinforced by the lack of warmth in his large blue eyes. Indeed, the only thing she could see in them was morbid curiosity. That, along with the strange ridges on his face -- unless that was another thing she couldn't remember -- told her that she'd strayed very far from home.

That thought startled her. She had no idea where her home was.

The doctor bluntly asked, "You don't know who you are?"

"No," she said. "I don't know who I am." Images from the dream still lingered in her mind, upsetting her concentration. "I..."

When she trailed off, he asked impatiently, "You what?"

"I was dreaming right before you came in." She glanced nervously at the captain, who was standing off to one side watching her. She looked down at her hands, which were clutching the sheet. "It was a silly dream."

"It may be your subconscious trying to tell you something, or it may be nothing at all. Your bumps and bruises appear to be healing, but I'm going to take a closer look, especially at the back of your head."

She touched the back of her head, feeling the large bump there, as the doctor opened the medical bag and pulled out a scanner and activated it. She hadn't realized she'd hit her head.

"What was the dream about?" the doctor asked.

"Rocks."

That made the doctor pause in his work. "Rocks?"

She nodded ever so slightly. "Rocks. They were in the air all around me. I was afraid one of them was going to hit me. I couldn't get out of their way. And..." She trailed off, frowning.

Looking at the readings on his scanner, the doctor asked absently, "And what?"

"I think I was up in the air. In space. And it was dark."

"Hmmmm."

She watched as he adjusted the scanner. He didn't seem the least bit interested in what she was saying, so she decided to tell him the detail of the dream that most unsettled her. "I was out in space by myself. No spacesuit, no ship, nothing protecting me."

"Definitely a dream," the doctor said dismissively.

"But it fits, though," the captain said, finally taking part in the conversation. "Your shuttle was damaged in an asteroid field. That's why it crashed into one of them."

She stared at him. Even in her confusion, she was aware of his overpowering presence. Tall, strong, commanding. She wanted him to believe her but she couldn't remember anything. "I was in a shuttle?" Then a more disquieting thought struck her. "Were there any other survivors?"

"You were the only one on board," he said.

Now she was truly confused. If she had been the only one in the shuttle, that meant she had to have been piloting it. "I don't know how to fly a ship like that! At least, I don't think I do."

The captain took a deep breath. She was certain he was going to accuse her of lying, because there was no mistaking the displeased expression on his face. Before he could speak, however, she received help from an unexpected source.

"She's telling the truth," the doctor said. "These readings only confirm what my original diagnosis in sickbay told me. She's got amnesia."

"Will she recover her memory?" the captain asked, beating her to the question to which she desperately needed an answer.

The doctor shrugged as he put the scanner back in his medical bag. "It may return without any treatment. It may not. If it does, it's just a matter of when."

* * *

The woman in his bunk seemed to relax slightly after Phlox left. He'd have to remember that. It might come in handy later, knowing that she was scared of the doctor. In any case, she was right to be leery of the alien physician. The man didn't have an ethical bone in his Denobulan body.

He was aware of her watching him as he moved around the cabin, taking off his jacket and hanging it in the closet, then pouring himself a drink from the decanter of scotch he kept on the bookshelf. When he turned to face her, she quickly looked away.

"So," he said, moving over to the chair at his desk and sitting down. "It seems you're telling the truth after all."

She made a small noise in the back of her throat, much like a cornered animal might. The cringing type didn't appeal to him, so he was pleased when a spark of defiance showed in her brown eyes.

"Why should I lie?" she asked.

He stared at her, still not totally convinced that her amnesia was real. "You really don't have a clue, do you?"

She sighed heavily. "Not about anything," she admitted.

He watched as she plucked at the edge of the sheet. His presence obviously made her uncomfortable, yet she was starting to show some strength of character. She was no longer cowering. He got the impression there was a lot going on in her mind, even if the doctor thought it was empty of memories. While he didn't consider her dangerous, she might be clever. That could be a problem. Clever people often came up with clever ideas that didn't match his own agenda.

He looked at the pictures of previous ships named _Enterprise _on his cabin wall as he considered the ramifications of finding her. There was new technology on her shuttle. If Tucker and T'Pol could figure out how to use it, it couldn't do anything but advance his reputation and strength in the empire. If this woman regained her memory, she might also be able to provide other data that could prove valuable to him. When that starship from another universe had been found, there had been no people on board. No living people, that is. But here, right before him, was someone from another universe. She could well turn out to be a font of valuable information.

He turned his head to look at her, only to catch her assessing him in return. She was sizing him up. A smile, in part in anticipation of what he might learn from her, crossed his face. But he also recognized something else about his reaction. She was an attractive woman, and it had been a long time since he'd had one in his bed.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you, volley and begoogled, for the reviews!

CHAPTER 3

The captain had caught her looking at him. She felt her cheeks flush, but she refused to look away. She'd lost her memory, was totally unfamiliar with her surroundings, and had no idea what was going to happen to her. So far, only he had asked the questions, but she deserved to ask some of her own. "What's going to happen to me?"

His smile turned sardonic. She could have sworn she heard a faint snicker. Maybe she shouldn't have asked that question, considering she was in his bed.

The smile disappeared from his face as he took a sip from his glass of scotch. After he swallowed, he countered, "What do you think will happen to you?"

She hadn't really thought about it. She'd been too concerned with the moment. It was strange not having a past to draw on while dealing with the present, and there had been no opportunity to think about the future. "I'm not sure," she said. "You'll take me to some sort of medical facility, I suppose. The authorities will try to find some of my family members."

He snorted in amusement. "That's going to be rather difficult. You're not from these parts."

She sat up as straight as she could being propped up on pillows and asked, "You know something about me? What is it?"

He put down the glass. "You're from another universe."

"If you're saying I'm from some place far away--"

"Another. Universe."

She stared at him, trying to wrap her mind around the concept. She found she couldn't. "That's crazy."

The captain shrugged. "According to my science officer, it's not crazy. I tend to believe her. She's very good at figuring out all sorts of things."

Before she could ask for more explanation, a chime sounded. The captain called out, "Enter!"

The door to the cabin slid open. She caught a glimpse of a dull gray corridor outside as a man carrying a covered tray entered. "Your dinner, sir," the man said, placing the tray on the desk.

"Thanks, Cunningham," the captain said. "Bring breakfast tomorrow morning as well."

"Very good, sir," the man responded with a slight dip of his head.

As the man moved over to a cabinet, the captain lifted the lid from the tray.

She tried to ignore the rumbling from her stomach as the smell of charbroiled steak wafted across the cabin to her. She had no idea how long it had been since she'd last eaten. She swallowed, trying to ignore her hunger. "You have a butler on a starship?" she asked.

For the first time, the captain's laughter sounded genuine. "That's a good one! Cunningham's my steward."

"Oh," she said faintly. She gazed at Cunningham, who had a condescending smile on his face as he returned with a bed tray. He placed the tray over her legs where she sat propped up in the bunk, then moved back to the captain's desk where he'd left the meal. He picked up a bowl and brought it over to her tray. Clear broth, with a few crackers on the side.

"Thank you Cunningham," the captain said. "That's all for now."

"Yes, sir." As efficiently as he'd entered the cabin, Cunningham left.

The door chime sounded again. This place was as busy as a space port, she thought. Apparently it wasn't something the captain appreciated, for his voice was harsh as he again called out, "Enter!"

The door to the cabin slid open, and she gazed curiously at the compact, dark-haired man who entered. While the captain was dressed in dark blue trousers and shirt with insignia -- some sort of uniform, she assumed -- this man was dressed entirely in black. What he was wearing wasn't medical garb like the doctor's, however. This outfit struck her as strictly utilitarian, as well as intentionally intimidating. Her eyes were drawn to the pistol at the man's hip. Some sort of policeman or security officer, she surmised.

He was carrying a data padd, which he turned on and offered to the captain. "I've analyzed the logs on her shuttle, sir. Enough information remained intact to extract this." His British accent was crisp and clear, in contrast to the American English spoken by the captain.

As the captain took the padd and began reading, the man in black turned his attention to her. The cold, assessing gray eyes sent a shiver down her spine, making her shrink back against the pillows. She hoped she never had to be alone with this man.

"Well," the captain said. "This is interesting. Seems we have a name for you after all." He stared at her, a new hardness in his eyes. "And a rank. You're in the military in your universe, Ensign Hoshi Sato."

She returned the stare, dumbfounded. The name didn't mean anything to her.

* * *

She had been scared of the doctor, but Archer could see that was nothing compared to her reaction to this visitor to his cabin. She was absolutely terrified.

Most people who had any sense should be terrified of Lt. Malcolm Reed. The man was dangerous, barely kept in check by the rules and regulations of the Imperial fleet. That worked in Archer's favor, for Reed was also a man who had little imagination of his own. He was more than willing to hitch a ride on Archer's meteoric rise in the ranks, and therefore was willing to follow orders without question. He was the perfect chief of security for a captain like Archer, who sometimes required tactics outside what the regulations deemed permissible.

Archer took his time reviewing the information on the padd. Not only was he keeping Reed waiting to be dismissed, which was petty but helped to reinforce that Archer was the one in charge, but he was curious to see if the woman would give anything away under Reed's intense scrutiny. She hadn't reacted, other than a blank stare, when he'd said her name. Whether that was because she really didn't know, or because she'd been too scared of Reed, was yet to be seen.

After a few long minutes had passed, he asked Reed, "You've given this information to Tucker and T'Pol?"

"Yes, sir," Reed answered without taking his eyes from Sato.

"Should be interesting to see what they make of it."

Now Reed did look at him, his expression a mixture of disdain and depravity. Archer wasn't the only one who knew about Tucker's unending quest to bed T'Pol, but Reed also harbored a deep-seated dislike of the engineer. The two got along about as well as cats and dogs. "You're dismissed," he said to Reed.

Reed headed for the door, but not before he gave Sato one more searing gaze. As soon as the man had left, Archer got to his feet, went to an interior door, and opened it. "Come here, Dart."

Rapid clicking sounded on the deck plating from the adjoining cabin, followed by the appearance of a large doberman pinscher. The dog nuzzled Archer's hand.

"Good boy, Dart," Archer said. "Time to eat."

The dog turned its head to look with liquid brown eyes at Sato on the bunk. Sato's wide-eyed expression was priceless. Did she actually think he was going to sic the dog on her?

"No, not her," Archer said with an amused chuckle. He opened a cabinet door, took out a bowl, and filled it from a bag of dog food. He placed the bowl on the deck.

Dart was well trained. The dobie remained seated on its haunches until Archer indicated he could eat.

After the black-and-brown dog padded to the bowl and began eating, Sato managed to squeak, "He's rather large for a doberman, isn't he?"

"He was the biggest and strongest of his litter -- exactly what I wanted." He saw Sato, a confused expression on her face, give her head a minute shake. "What?" he asked.

"You called him 'Dart,'" she said after a moment. "I thought..."

"It's short for d'Artagnan," Archer explained when she trailed off.

Now she nodded. "One of the Three Musketeers."

"Not really. The three in the title were Aramis, Athos, and Porthos. D'Artagnan joined them as a musketeer."

"Dart was in a litter of four puppies named after those musketeers in the story," she said.

Archer frowned. How could she have known that? His eyes narrowed as his suspicions of her returned, but she wasn't paying him any attention. Her eyes were unfocused, her expression puzzled.

"How did I know that?" he heard her ask herself softly. She shook her head again, her eyes regaining their focus as she turned to stare at him. "For some reason," she said, "I thought he'd be named after one of the other musketeers."

Archer had no answer for her. He indicated she should eat, then sat down at his table and applied himself to his own meal. The steak was excellent, as usual. Dart, having finished the contents of his bowl, was looking at him and licking his lips. Archer cut off a small piece of steak and tossed it to the dog, which caught it easily.

He deliberately ignored the woman as he ate, but he could see from the corner of her eye that she was slowly spooning soup into her mouth. She didn't appear to have much of an appetite.

* * *

She was in another universe, he'd said. Even so, some things weren't that different from wherever it was she came from, apparently. They had an author named Alexandre Dumas in this universe, too, for Archer was familiar with The Three Musketeers. But why had she thought his dog would be named Porthos? It was like hearing a snippet of a song but not being able to remember the title. She knew she knew it, she just couldn't access it. And why could she remember the story of the Three Musketeers and not her own name?

She used the act of eating her soup to cover her confusion. She realized that she was fixated on the dog's name because Archer's even bigger revelation of her own name had meant nothing to her.

She'd finished about half the soup when Archer was paged to go to the bridge.

"On my way," he said into the com panel on his desk. He cut the connection and turned to look speculatively at her. After a moment, he looked down at the dog and made a curt motion with his right hand. "Stay. Guard."

The dog whined in response, but remained seated on the floor, watching Archer as he strode to the door and let himself out. When the door shut, the dog turned his head to stare at Sato.

Hoshi gulped. She liked animals. Well, at least she thought she liked animals. The doberman was beautiful, but it was also dangerous. It was liked a pair of pointy ears and sharp teeth attached to a set of legs. As the dog unblinkingly returned her gaze, she ate one last spoonful of soup. The dog licked its lips.

Hoshi picked up one of the crackers and considered it, then the dog. She slowly held out the cracker.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Archer was not in a good mood when he returned to his cabin. The matter for which he'd been called to the bridge could have waited until morning. The cause of his summons had been another of the spatial anomalies that had been appearing intermittently in the asteroid field for the last week. Nothing had happened during any of its prior appearances, and this time had been no different. He understood, however, that the bridge crew, given his earlier foul temper, was being cautious.

When he stepped into his cabin to see Dart draped across the feet of a sleeping Sato, his anger rose. He'd left the dog on guard not only to keep her in the cabin but to protect her, but he'd also expected Sato to be intimidated by the fearsome creature. It was rare that the dog took a liking to anyone but Archer.

Then he saw the empty cracker wrappers on the bed tray on the floor. He glared at Dart. At least the dog looked contrite; he knew he'd not pleased his master. Raising his hand in a signal, Archer motioned Dart off the bed. The dog leaped off, and although Sato stirred, she didn't wake.

Archer spent the next few hours at his desk, reading all the reports he could find about the starship from the other universe that had turned up a few months ago. He still didn't understand all the technical data, but that's what he had Tucker and T'Pol for. Then he reviewed Tucker and T'Pol's reports on Sato's shuttlecraft. Tucker had included information about the unknown alloy, which had a higher resistance to heat and electrical discharges than what was currently used in Imperial ships. If they could figure out how to manufacture the substance, it would give the fleet an advantage over most of their opponents. A hard smile crossed his face as he imagined going into a battle, knowing his ship could withstand more force than any enemy could expect.

He finished the report and looked over at Sato where she was sprawled in the bed. It was imperative that her memory return. She could hold the key to finding out not only about the new alloy, but other technology from her universe as well. She was in a military organization there; she ought to know something useful.

He called up the last report. It had been compiled by T'Pol with her usual thoroughness. She'd checked the Imperial databases and found that there had been a Hoshi Sato in this universe. She'd been a child when her family had been executed as traitors to the empire. That had been twenty years ago.

When he snapped his fingers, Dart, who had been snoozing on the deck next to his chair, rose to his feet. Together, they went into the adjoining cabin.

* * *

Hoshi woke the next morning feeling much better. She glanced around the cabin to find that she was alone. The dog, Dart, was gone. The captain must have been in the cabin at some point while she slept, else how had the dog gotten out? A shiver went down her spine at the thought of Archer watching her while she slept. She didn't think she was a heavy sleeper. If someone had entered the cabin, she was fairly sure she would have woken.

Her gaze came to rest on the bed tray where she put it on the floor after coaxing Dart into letting her pet him last night. She wouldn't put it past the captain to have drugged her food. He struck her as the type of person who could do something like that without a single qualm. But why? He'd left her alone with a well-trained, dangerous animal. She harbored no illusions that feeding Dart a few crackers would suddenly make the dog switch its loyalty to her; she'd merely managed to make that walking set of fangs a little more relaxed around her, thereby making her a little more comfortable with it.

She was effectively a prisoner in the captain's cabin. She knew she was on a space ship, for she could see the stars out the window, so there was no place to go. But the captain had locked her in this cabin and left his guard dog with her. It didn't make sense.

Then she remembered the dispassionate Doctor Phlox, and the intimidating Lieutenant Reed, and knew she was better off staying in the cabin instead of wandering around. She didn't know much about this universe, if indeed she really was in an alternate universe, but the few contacts she'd had with its inhabitants had left the impression that they were not nice people. Not at all like--

She frowned. Not at all like _what? _she asked herself. For a moment, she'd been on the verge of remembering something, but whatever it was danced at the edge of her memories, taunting her, only to retreat into hiding when she turned her mind in that direction.

Her frustrated musings were interrupted by a loud rumbling from her stomach. The thin soup and the few crackers she'd eaten the night before hadn't done much to alleviate her hunger. Unfortunately, she had an even more immediate need than food. Swinging her legs out from under the covers, she looked around the cabin as she sat up. She knew from the day before that the door on the other side of the room led to the corridor. The one through which the captain had allowed the dog to enter was off to her right. Other than the door to the closet where she'd seen the captain hang his jacket, there was only one other door in the cabin. That had to be what she was looking for.

Dizziness made her head spin as she cautiously got to her feet. She hoped that she wasn't going to have an embarrassing accident, but luckily, she reached the door without incident. It slid open at her touch, releasing a warm, moist fog that enveloped her like a blanket. She heard the sound of running water, which made her feel her need even more urgently. Her befuddled mind didn't realize the bathroom was occupied until a harsh voice rang out from its steam-shrouded depths.

"What do you think you're doing?" the captain asked angrily.

Startled out of her stupor, Hoshi called out, "I'm sorry!" She hastily turned away before she could make out any details other than an enclosed shower area, its glass panels covered in condensation. She almost bolted back to the bed, but she really, really needed to use this room. "I...uh...need to...uh..."

A curse from the captain interrupted her stuttering speech. Her back to the bathroom, Hoshi heard the squeak of spigots being turned, followed by silence when the water stopped.

"Give me a minute," the captain yelled at her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing that he'd hurry. A few sounds carried to her: the flapping of a towel, the slap of wet feet on tile, a heavy exhalation that she interpreted as exasperation.

A breeze brushed her skin as he passed her on his way out of the bathroom. "It's all yours."

"Thanks," she gasped, opening her eyes to see him, wearing nothing but a towel around his midsection, walking toward the closet. She hurriedly stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Once her immediate need was taken care of, Hoshi took a moment to look around the bathroom. The air was still dense with moisture. She felt sticky all over and, as she gazed at the shower area, she wondered when she had last bathed. The mirror over the sink caught her attention. She stepped over to it and used her hand to swipe away some of the condensation that covered its surface.

She supposed the person she saw in the mirror was her. The petite young woman with Asian features didn't seem familiar, but at the same time, didn't seem unusual. She'd been told her name was Hoshi Sato, so most likely she was Japanese. She frowned, wondering how she knew that the name was Japanese.

Taking a closer look at her appearance to avoid the puzzling question of why she didn't recognize herself, the word "rumpled" came to mind. She definitely was rumpled. Her long hair, straight and black, was dissheveled, and her almond-shaped brown eyes looked tired. The cotton pajamas she was wearing were wrinkly, too. She had no idea how long she'd been wearing them. She really could use a shower.

A loud knock on the door made her jump.

"You okay in there?" came the captain's gruff voice.

"Uh, yes," she said, spinning toward the door, which set off a fresh wave of dizziness. She caught hold of the edge of the sink and swallowed hard. The dizziness receded. "Um, would it be all right if I got cleaned up?"

After a moment, the captain's voice came back. "Fine. But don't dawdle. Breakfast will be here in a few minutes."

A hungry growl came from her stomach. She almost decided against showering, but quickly stripped off the pajamas and stepped into the shower. After turning on the faucet, she stood under the spray. A sigh escaped her as she felt her muscles begin to relax. She closed her eyes and let her mind go blank as the warm water soothed her.

She didn't know how long she'd been standing there when there was pounding on the bathroom door. Her eyes flew open in alarm and she looked in the direction of the door, afraid the captain might come in. Indeed, the door did open, but only a few centimeters.

"Hurry up!" the captain called in. "Breakfast is here."

"I'll be right out!" she assured him.

As she turned off the shower, she suddenly realized she hadn't thought about a change of clothes. She was going to have to put the pajamas back on, but when she looked for them, they were gone. She remembered she'd left them on the floor. The captain must have grabbed them when he'd opened the door to tell her breakfast was ready. The least he could have done, she thought grumpily as she dried off, was to leave something for her to wear. She wrapped one of the towels around her -- thank goodness they were large -- and raked her fingers through her damp hair. If the captain expected her to eat breakfast dressed in only a towel, she would try to maintain her dignity the best she could.

Her eyes determined, she lifted her chin, and opened the bathroom door.

* * *

Archer looked up from his bacon and eggs as the bathroom door opened. He stopped in mid-chew as he took in her appearance. Snugly wrapped in a towel, she walked over to the table and took the seat at the place set across from him. She calmly reached out and placed the napkin on her lap.

While he admired her nerve, certainly she didn't think she was supposed to eat with him dressed only in a towel. "There are some clothes in the other room," he told her.

He caught a momentary flicker behind her steady gaze. When she made no move, he ordered her, "Get dressed!"

Now her composure did slip. She blinked several times, and her brow furrowed.

Surely the military in her universe couldn't be that different from here, he thought. As an officer, she should know that the cabin connected to the captain's was for "guests," and included various amenities, including a wardrobe of the captain's own choosing for said guests. In exasperation, he pointed to the door of the adjoining cabin. "Go!"

Flustered, she tossed the napkin on the table, got to her feet, and scurried to the door. He caught a tantalizing glimpse of thigh when the towel slipped open as the door shut behind her.

Archer shook his head. She was such a contradiction. Her composure as she'd taken a seat at the table, naked but for a towel, had been impressive. Then uncertainty, and a touch of fear, had crossed her features when he'd ordered her to get dressed. As he resumed eating, he wondered if she'd thought he expected her to run around his cabin naked. He laughed softly to himself. He'd like that, but he could imagine some of the excuses certain members of his crew would make to visit his cabin once word got out that the woman currently residing in the captain's cabin preferred to go au naturel. It might be enough to make Tucker forget about T'Pol for a while. And then there was Reed, who would have to be kept at a distance from her. Archer wanted her tamed, not broken.

He sobered as he realized that he himself didn't need the distraction of a naked woman in his quarters, either. Long ago, he'd realized that he had to stay focused and alert. It was the only way to advance in the empire, and it was the only way to stay alive. He was too disciplined to let a moment or two of pleasure interfere with his long-term objectives.

Still, he'd seen how he'd rattled her. Maybe she was afraid that he was going to take advantage of her. It wouldn't hurt to let her think that. It might make her easier to handle.

A/N: Don't be afraid to leave a review. I don't bite!


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I probably should have noted this at the beginning. Oops. This is not set in the Mirror Universe from the series, but rather a different MU, even though there are some similarities. That's given me a lot more leeway in plot development. Thanks, everyone, for your comments! They're helping to keep me on track.

CHAPTER 5

She'd read that situation totally wrong, Hoshi thought ruefully as the door closed behind her. For some reason, her inability to interpret the captain's mood bothered her. Or maybe it was that he had acted in a way she hadn't expected which made the incident feel...off. She shook her head. Heaven forbid that he'd thought she was coming on to him, but she'd had no choice. He'd taken her only clothing, and she wasn't about to beg for something else to wear. She might not know who she was, but she definitely had pride.

He'd said there were clothes in here. She took a good look around the room. It was another set of living quarters. There was a large, comfortable-looking bed with several pillows and a heavy comforter in a warm shade of green. A dresser was tucked into a niche near the bed. Against one of the interior bulkheads was a small couch upholstered in the same shade as the bedding. Off to one side was a table, flanked by a pair of chairs.

It wasn't until she opened the closet that the purpose of the room hit her. Her cheeks grew hot as she gazed at the feminine apparel, all of it in luxurious materials, much of it scantily tailored, and most of it for the boudoir. She hadn't known the captain that long, but she seriously doubted he was a cross-dresser, she thought with dark humor. So that meant this room was for someone else.

Someone possibly like her.

She whirled around to take a better look at the room. Although it was elegantly appointed for a starship, there were no signs of an occupant. There were no knick-knacks, no personal items, nothing other than the furniture. And, of course, the clothes.

Hoshi turned back to the closet and began pawing through the items. She'd gotten the impression the captain didn't like to be kept waiting. She could imagine him becoming impatient, marching in here, and ordering her to wear something of his choosing, and it might be something she'd rather not wear, which was pretty much everything in the closet. After a quick search, she found something she could wear without blushing. The dress was more suited for evening than breakfast, but it was the most modest thing she could find. Unfortunately, there was no footwear in the closet. She'd have to go barefoot.

She took a last look around after putting on the dress. Just like the captain's cabin, this room had several doors. Besides the one through which she'd entered and the one for the closet, she found a bathroom behind another. The last, she thought as she turned a speculative gaze on it, had to be to the corridor. It was tempting to run, but as she'd realized earlier, there was no place to go.

She drew a deep breath, ran her fingers through her damp hair, and, mentally girding herself, strode with as much confidence as she could muster to the door to the captain's cabin.

* * *

Archer's first thought when Sato walked back into his cabin was that he was going to enjoy dressing her up. He had doubted she'd pick anything overtly provocative from the selection of clothing available, and he had been right. But what she had picked looked good on her. The halter-style black shift clung to her in all the right places, sliding silkily against her legs as she walked. Her hair, still damp from the shower, was curling at the ends as it dried. She certainly looked the part of a captain's woman.

If the crew wanted to think he'd taken her as his mistress, all the better. That would be enough to keep most of them from approaching her. Not many dared encroach on the captain's private preserve. That was the last thing he needed -- someone like Reed trying to learn any secrets she might have and then using them to his own advantage. If anyone was going to benefit from Sato's unexpected visit here, it was going to be Jonathan Archer.

"Much better," he murmured as she sat down across from him.

She flashed him a small smile, but he could tell she was nervous despite her outward appearance.

"Go ahead," he said, trying to put her at ease. "As you can see, I started without you."

She glanced at his nearly empty plate before placing her napkin on her lap and picking up her fork. He watched as she took a few tentative bites of scrambled eggs, then began eating more quickly. Satisfied that she wasn't going to do anything stupid like refuse to eat, he was reaching for his cup of coffee when he heard her stomach rumble. He glanced up to see her eyes wide with embarrassment.

"I guess it's been a while since I've had anything substantial to eat," she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

He chuckled. "I can have Cunningham bring seconds if you're still hungry when you finish that."

She murmured something inaudible and resumed eating, studiously ignoring him. Archer found himself smiling, something he didn't do often. He had to admit that he was enjoying watching her.

Overall, she was doing remarkably well. He'd seen several glimpses of steel in her this morning, and it was apparent that she had a resilient nature. First, she had surprised him by not attempting to lock herself in the bathroom after he'd removed her discarded clothing. He'd half expected her to ask for something to wear before she left the bathroom. But although he'd thrown her off balance by demanding that she dress after she'd walked out in a towel, she'd acted as if a gauntlet had been thrown down in front of her. She had gone into the other room, picked out something to wear, and had sailed back into his cabin like she owned the place.

Archer had finished his breakfast and was refilling his coffee cup from the carafe Cunningham had left on the table when Sato broke her self-imposed silence.

"Where's Dart?" she asked.

Archer snapped his fingers. A clattering of nails on the deck came from across the room as the doberman pinscher appeared from behind the other side of the bed. It padded to Archer and, at his signal, obediently sat. The dog's gaze turned longingly toward the piece of toast in Sato's hand as Archer rubbed it under its chin.

"Nein, jetzt keine von dem," Archer told the dog.

"Er muss Hunger haben," Sato said. "Haben nicht Sie ihn heute eingezogn?"

"No, I haven't fed him yet today," Archer answered, his eyes narrowing. "How is it that you understand German?"

"I don't know." She paused, seeming to consider something, then shrugged. "I just understood what you said, that's all."

He stared at her for a moment. "¿Cuál es su nombre?"

Without missing a beat, she responded in Spanish, "No sé. Usted me dijo que mi nombre es Hoshi Sato."

Of course he'd told her that her name was Hoshi Sato. It was too much to expect that his lingering suspicion that she was faking amnesia could be confirmed by tripping her up in a different language. But at the same time, the fact that she knew more than one language was intriguing. Switching to Vulcan, he said, "Mene sakkhet..."

"...ur-seveh," Sato finished the traditional greeting about living long and prospering.

Archer thought for a moment, then rasped, "Hab sosli' Quch!"

Sato snorted delicately. "I think it's safe to assume that my mother, whoever she was, did have a smooth forehead. Just don't say that to a Klingon. It's an insult."

"Exactly how many languages do you speak?" he asked curiously.

That question caught her off guard. She sat straighter and stared at him, her expression one of surprise. "I...I don't know. I didn't consciously think about the different languages that you used. I just spoke." Then her brow furrowed. "How many do you speak?"

Archer dismissed her question as unimportant with a curt wave of his hand. "No more than anyone might pick up in traveling around the galaxy." He rubbed the dog behind the ears. "I did have to learn some German, though, because Dart responds to that language. You, on the other hand..."

He smiled sardonically. An idea was forming in his mind, but he needed to find out exactly how many languages she knew, and how well. New technology from her universe might not be the only thing she could offer.

* * *

Archer waited impatiently for T'Pol to finish her work. He appreciated that T'Pol was an excellent science officer, but if there was one thing he admired about her, even if it annoyed him to no end sometimes, it was that she wasn't intimidated by his presence when she was working on something. His pacing in front of the communications station on the bridge where she was currently working had no effect; she refused to be hurried. She was processing Sato's translations with the help of the Universal Translator. T'Pol only spoke two languages -- her native Vulcan, and English, because that was the official language of the empire.

She pressed a control on the console and finally looked up at him. "Remarkable."

"What?" Archer asked.

"She is fluent in forty-seven languages."

No wonder it had taken all morning for Sato to complete the testing, and most of the afternoon for T'Pol to assess its accuracy.

"She may know even more languages than that," T'Pol continued. "While the empire strives to be all-inclusive, there are gaps in the fleet's language data base. And there may be languages in her universe that are not present in ours."

Archer was too astonished by the revelation of Sato's linguistic ability to comment on T'Pol's veiled criticism of the empire. "Forty-seven languages," he said. "Not including Earth languages, what else does she speak?"

"Vulcan. Klingon. Andorian. Romulan, although her knowledge of that tongue is weak," T'Pol said. "Denobulan. Kreetassan. Tellarite. Orion. She even understands languages that are no longer used, by virtue of the empire having exterminated the speakers' species, such as Nausicaan."

"Incredible," he murmured. "What doesn't she speak?"

T'Pol consulted her console. "Bajoran. Cardassian. A few other languages at the extreme edge of the empire."

Archer paced a few steps, deep in thought. When he turned back to T'Pol, he said, "It's possible, in her universe, that they haven't conquered those areas. She doesn't strike me as coming from an expansionist regime."

T'Pol looked away at nothing in particular. Archer was familiar with that mannerism, having seen it many times in the past. She had something to say, but wasn't going to bring it up without being asked. "What's on your mind, T'Pol?"

She looked back at him. "It seems that we do not know anything of her universe, much less whether it has government and social structures similar to this one."

"You weren't able to pull any information from her shuttle's data systems," he reminded her testily, wondering where this was leading. "And then there's the small fact that she can't remember anything."

T'Pol shifted in her seat. Whatever she was about to suggest wasn't something she wanted to voice.

"Spit it out," Archer ordered her.

"A mind meld."

He should have thought of that himself. He'd utilized T'Pol several times in the past to drag information out of reluctant prisoners who didn't want to talk. It wasn't a particularly pleasant process, for the person being subjected to it or the person conducting it. Hence, T'Pol's reluctance to bring it up. But she had served with Archer long enough to know that there was a good possibility that he'd order her to do it. Unlike some of his crew, she wasn't one to try to avoid something that she knew would be inevitable.

But there was a major flaw in her reasoning. "She can't remember anything," Archer repeated.

"Mind melds can be used to retrieve information that a person cannot consciously access, provided whatever barriers in place can be breached." Before he could say anything, she hurried to add, "There is some danger involved."

Archer raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"If she does not wish to participate, a forcible meld could damage her mind. Any knowledge she has may be irretrievably lost."

Archer turned to stare at the viewscreen, which showed the asteroid field they'd been observing for weeks. He always went after anything that might benefit him. New technology definitely fit that bill. But Sato also had a unique talent, one he'd never come across before. He hated relying on the UT when dealing with other species, and her facility with languages could prove a great advantage in that area.

Was the risk of permanently damaging Sato's brain worth it?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I'm truly overwhelmed -- but in a good way, mind you.

CHAPTER 6

Although no one had told her the results of the testing, Hoshi knew that she had done well. She'd lost count of the number of languages she'd been asked to translate, but she'd understood almost all of them. What was truly surprising was that she'd had no idea that she knew Orion, or Denobulan, or the other languages until she'd seen them in written form. But during the test, as she had read the words, she could hear them in her head.

Afterward, the captain had escorted her back to his cabin and had left her alone with Dart. Her nervousness and fear, which had been her constant companions since waking in this universe, had receded somewhat in the face of the startling discovery that she could understand a multitude of languages.

She'd spent the afternoon hours idly petting Dart as he lay on the couch next to her, his head on her lap. Every time she'd begun to worry about not knowing who she was or where she was, her anxiety had retreated in the amazement of finding out that she was gifted with a rare talent. She might not remember a lot of things because of her amnesia, but it had to be unusual for a person to know more than a few languages.

It was weird to know so many languages, but not know herself. Captain Archer had been adamant that her name was Hoshi Sato, and that she was in a military organization somewhere else. Another universe, he had said, if that was possible. However, there was no reason for him to lie that she could discern. But her name evoked the same response as when she'd looked in the mirror and had seen herself for the first time since she'd lost her memory. She didn't recognize the features, but at the same time, they didn't seem unfamiliar. The fact that she was an officer also meant nothing to her.

Her eyes were drawn to the sleeve of her outfit, where there was a patch with the depiction of a starship. The name under the starship was _Enterprise_. When the captain had given her the blue jumpsuit this morning and had told her to put it on, she'd assumed it was because he'd wanted her to wear something a little more decorious outside his cabin, and that the jumpsuit was some sort of standardized clothing. But then he'd told her it was what she'd been wearing when they'd found her. So in addition to having some confirmation that her name was indeed Hoshi Sato, which was stitched on the breast of the jumpsuit, she apparently served aboard another vessel with the same name as the one she was currently on.

In any case, thinking about that made her head ache. She was much calmer just sitting here, petting Dart, and wondering if there were any more languages that she knew that hadn't been included on the test.

Dart turned his sleek head toward the door a second before it slid open. Hoshi pushed the dog off her lap and stood. Maybe now she'd find out exactly how many languages she knew, and what else the captain had in mind for her. The speculative way he'd looked at her at the breakfast table this morning when he'd discovered she'd had a flair for languages had been disquieting. It had been one of the things she'd tried to avoid thinking about when he'd brought her back to his cabin after the testing.

The captain walked in, followed by the Vulcan woman who'd administered the language testing. The captain was smiling, but it was a hard smile that made Hoshi uncomfortable. Her nervousness, which she'd managed to hold at bay for a few hours, came rushing back.

"You're quite the little treasure trove," the captain informed her.

Hoshi shifted uncertainly on her feet. "Oh?"

The captain went to a shelf and took down a bottle of whiskey. As he poured a generous amount into a glass, he said, "According to T'Pol here, you understand forty-seven languages."

Dumbfounded, Hoshi stared at him. That many? It was almost too much to comprehend.

"Maybe more," he added matter-of-factly.

"More?" Hoshi asked.

"Yes," said T'Pol. When Hoshi turned to look at her, she continued. "There is the possibility there are additional languages in your universe that are not present here."

"Wow," Hoshi breathed.

"Indeed," the captain said with a smirk. "I intend to use your talent with languages, provided you're capable of it." He took a long swallow of the alcohol in his glass.

When he didn't elaborate, Hoshi looked from him to T'Pol. The Vulcan appeared calm, but there was an intensity to her that was unsettling. Vulcans had some mental abilities that humans didn't have, didn't they? Hoshi couldn't quite remember, but she was sure if her memory came back, she'd know what they were. There was something else in T'Pol's demeanor. Hoshi did remember that Vulcans didn't show emotion, but it seemed to her that T'Pol was the tiniest bit scared. Without knowing why, that frightened her.

"T'Pol is going to mind meld with you," the captain informed her. "Do you know what that is?"

Mind meld. The joining of minds through a telepathic link. Yes, she knew what that was. She nodded. "Is she going to try to find out if there are other languages I know?"

The captain shook his head. He took another sip from his glass, then said, "T'Pol believes that a mind meld can unlock your memory."

Hoshi took an involuntary step back. She understood that the captain thought he could benefit from any secrets she might have, but what those secrets might be and how he could use them, she had no idea. Even more appalling was the thought that there might not be anything to unlock. Her memories might be gone forever. She didn't know if she could live with that knowledge.

She bit her lip and shot a quick glance at the captain. He appeared at ease, sipping from his drink, as he watched her. She realized he'd already decided that she would undergo a mind meld. She had no choice in the matter.

"You do want to remember who you are, don't you?" he asked.

"There will be no harm to you if you willingly accept the meld," T'Pol added quietly.

Hoshi suddenly understood that the meld was going to be as difficult for T'Pol as it was for her. That explained the Vulcan's uneasiness. T'Pol must be mentally girding herself for a distasteful experience. Mucking around in her human mind was probably as frightening to T'Pol as it was to herself, but for a different reason. Vulcans prided themselves on logic and the repression of emotion, and a human's mind was anything but logical or non-emotional. She wondered briefly if T'Pol's mind could be damaged if she fought the meld.

Despite the danger, however, she did want to recover her memories -- if she had any. She wanted to know who she was, and where she had come from. More than that, she _needed _to know. The last few days, with no recollection of her past, had been like trying to walk through a maze. So much seemed familiar, but she didn't know her way.

She took a deep breath and, without looking at the captain, said, "Let's do it."

T'Pol nodded fractionally. "If you would sit," she directed, indicating one of the chairs at the table.

When Hoshi was seated, T'Pol pulled the other chair closer to her and sat down. "You may feel some momentary discomfort at first," the Vulcan advised her as she extended her arm, her fingers reaching for the side of Hoshi's face.

Just before T'Pol touched her, Hoshi blinked as a scene flitted across her mind. She'd done this before. And with T'Pol. How could that be possible?

And then T'Pol's fingers touched her temple, and a painless searing etched across her thoughts.

* * *

She's got guts, Archer thought. Not that Sato had any choice about participating in the meld, but he'd been gratified to see her come to that conclusion on her own. On this ship, his word was law, and what he wanted, he got. The sooner she realized that, the easier it would be for both of them. Not that he didn't like a challenge. But if she was going to be in close proximity, working with him and living in the adjacent quarters, he'd rather not have to deal with the hassle of someone who had to be constantly coerced or threatened.

He set aside his drink as T'Pol began the meld. He'd seen this done many times before, but you never knew what was going to happen in a meld. The fact that Sato had appeared startled before T'Pol had touched her was interesting. It didn't appear to be in response to the procedure, but more as if she'd just realized something. Curious, but he knew enough not to interrupt at this stage of the meld to ask about it.

T'Pol took a deep breath. She closed her eyes. "My mind to your mind," she intoned.

Sato closed her eyes and inhaled raggedly. From past observations of melds, Archer knew that T'Pol had already begun entering Sato's mind. His Vulcan officer was very adept at this practice.

"Your thoughts are my thoughts," T'Pol continued.

A few moments later, the women said together, "Our minds are one."

That was fast, Archer thought. Obviously, Sato wasn't fighting the mental intrusion, but the speed with which she'd accepted it was astounding. Usually there was some hesitancy on the part of the subject of the meld, but there had been none that he had seen. Maybe Sato had done this before, or maybe she was one of the few humans who had psychic abilities similar to Vulcans.

T'Pol grimaced. Sato mirrored the expression.

"There is a barrier, imposed by damage to the brain," T'Pol said softly for his benefit. "I must go deeper."

Archer watched intently as T'Pol lapsed into silence, extreme concentration evident on her green-flushed features. Sato, on the other hand, showed no undue signs of distress other than a slight frown. They sat unmoving, T'Pol's fingers on Sato's temple.

Archer found his own mind wandering as the procedure dragged on in silence. They'd have to check afterward if Sato was telepathic. Such abilities were unusual in a human, but not unheard of. Having a telepathic human on his ship could aid him in a number of ways. His distrust of aliens made it hard for him to rely on them for things humans couldn't do, such as this meld.

A sharp gasp from both of the women brought his attention back.

"It hurts!" Sato and T'Pol said together.

Sato tried to jerk her head away, but T'Pol's other hand shot out to hold it in place. Sato whimpered, sobbed once, then quieted, but her breathing was loud in the quiet room. A pained groan burst from T'Pol.

Archer had never seen T'Pol so stressed when performing a meld. He took a tentative step toward them, ready to intervene. His desire to know about Sato's universe and any technological advances had to be balanced against the possible loss of the best science officer in the fleet, along with Sato's ability with languages.

A scream from Sato, echoed a moment later by T'Pol, spurred him to action. He grabbed the Vulcan and forcibly pulled her back.

Sato toppled sideways out of her chair. T'Pol, Archer's hand keeping her from sliding to the floor, slowly opened her eyes. When T'Pol shrugged off his support and sat up straighter, he turned to Sato where she'd fallen to the deck. The woman was unconscious. He checked for and found a pulse, but it was faint and rapid. As he slid his arms under Sato, he asked T'Pol harshly, "What happened?"

T'Pol struggled to her feet as Archer lifted Sato. "I am not certain," she told him. "There is much for me to process before I can give you a coherent account."

Archer headed for the door with his burden. "You found something."

"Everything," T'Pol said. "That is what is so...confusing."

Archer opened the door and strode out, being careful not to bump Sato's head on the door frame. Sickbay was only a short distance down the corridor. As he hurried along, T'Pol slipped past him to open the double doors to the medical facility. He entered without breaking stride.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Again, thank you for all the reviews. Yes, you find out some of what T'Pol learned in the meld in this chapter.

CHAPTER 7

Phlox was behind the partition in sickbay, feeding his animals, when he heard the doors to sickbay open.

"Phlox!" he heard Archer bellow.

"Coming!" Phlox called back, sprinkling larvae into a cage for his venomous Altrosian tree snake to eat. The creature was positively ravenous this evening. His hand holding the food canister jerked when the captain yelled again.

"Now, Phlox!"

Startled by the rude summons, Phlox almost dropped the food canister. The captain was clearly impatient, so he set down the canister and bustled out from behind the partition into the treatment area. Without a word, he took in the scene -- the captain placing an insensate Sato on the biobed with the monitoring equipment, the Vulcan science officer standing a few paces away. Normally, Phlox wasn't one to be rushed, but the captain didn't seem to be in a good mood, so he hastened to grab a medical scanner from a nearby tray. He approached Sato and began taking readings as Archer stepped back. Phlox was glancing covertly at T'Pol, wondering what she was doing here, when he noticed her strained expression.

Another look at Archer's stony face was enough to confirm that now was definitely not the time for Phlox to anger the captain by taking his time. He busied himself with his patient, who he noted was back in the drab apparel she'd been found in. He switched on the monitoring equipment and re-ran the initial scans from the hand-held unit. "Elevated blood pressure and rapid heartbeat, although it appears to be slowing," he announced. He checked one of the screens above the bed. "Extreme activity in the brain, much more than is common in a human."

The symptoms of his unconscious patient could be caused by any number of things. The presence of T'Pol, however, who was showing un-Vulcanlike signs of stress, narrowed the possibilities. Taking care to keep his tone neutral, Phlox said, "She fought a mind meld, I take it."

Archer looked to T'Pol, who answered, "Quite the opposite. She cooperated fully."

"Hmmmm." Phlox considered. "Given her history, or rather the lack of it--" Archer cleared his throat impatiently, and Phlox hurried on. "Given that she was suffering from amensia, and the hyperactive state of her brain, I would say her memory has returned. A lifetime's amount of information, flooding back suddenly, could account for her mind shutting down."

"She's going to be all right?" Archer asked.

"Probably." Phlox shrugged. "We won't know until she wakes up. Her subconscious needs some time to sort everything out."

"How long will that be?"

Phlox resisted the urge to shrug again. The captain always wanted answers immediately, and could become quite irritated when he didn't get them. As carefully as he could, Phlox said, "Impossible to determine." When the captain's face darkened, he added defensively, "This is not the kind of thing that can be measured."

As Archer mulled that over, Phlox took the opportunity to say, "Commander T'Pol, you look out of sorts. Perhaps I should examine you."

"No," she responded, almost vehemently for a Vulcan. At Archer's quizzical look, she added, "I have performed numerous mind melds. I would be aware if my brain had sustained injury. It has not. I do not require the doctor's...services."

The last came out with a disdainful sneer, which pleased Phlox. He rarely got a reaction from her. Not that he had expected her to take him up on his offer, but there was no harm in trying. There had been a few times when she had required his care. For the most part, however, she preferred to take care of her health herself through the use of healing trances and other Vulcan mystical practices. He sniffed. She must think that by suggesting he examine her, he was just being his usual, lascivious self. Which, of course, he was. He didn't think he could be faulted, though. When the women on board paraded around in those skimpy uniforms which didn't cover their arms and left their midriffs bare, men's minds naturally turned to certain things. He was only Denobulan, after all, and he'd been away from his three wives for a long time.

"Does she need to stay in sickbay?" Archer asked, gesturing at Sato.

_Ah-ha! _thought Phlox. The captain is more interested in the woman than he was trying to let on. She was pretty, in a human sort of way, Phlox supposed, but the captain could have his pick of females from the crew, so it wasn't just that the captain found her attractive. It must be because she was unique, a creature from another universe. And apparently, rare in any universe. From what Phlox had overheard in the mess hall at lunchtime, this Sato person had undergone extensive language testing earlier today, and the scuttlebutt was that she could speak more languages than the entire crew put together. That was no small feat, considering there was a fair number of aliens aboard the Terran Imperial ship. They were servant species to the humans, although some were less subservient than others. Denobulans might not rank up there with humans, but they certainly weren't far down on the ladder, either.

"Doctor?" Archer prompted.

"I'm sorry, Captain. My mind wandered for a moment." Phlox checked the readouts on the screens above the bed. "Her blood pressure seems to be stablizing, and her heartbeat is back within a normal range. Although I'd recommend she stay in sickbay, I don't believe there's any reason she can't be moved to your quarters. But if you do," he warned, "I would advise that any type of distress be reported to me immediately. I can be at your cabin at a moment's notice."

"You better be," Archer warned him. He picked up Sato, then headed for the door, T'Pol following in his wake.

Phlox called after them, "I'll want to check her after she regains consciousness."

Over his shoulder as he strode out of sickbay, Archer said, "I'll try to remember that."

Phlox wondered if that last comment was supposed to have been sarcastic. Sometimes it was difficult to tell with humans.

* * *

Captain Archer told T'Pol to come with him. She followed him into his quarters and, after he'd settled Sato in his bed, she waited as he commed Cunningham to bring some food. At his inquiring glance, she shook her head slightly.

He told her bluntly, "You look like hell. A little nourishment might do you good." Turning back to the intercom, he ordered Cunningham to bring a bowl of plo'meek soup for T'Pol before he cut the connection.

No sane person argued with the captain without good reason, so she would eat some of the soup to appease him. When he indicated she should sit, she moved over to perch on the edge of the couch. His solicitousness did not fool her. He wanted to know what information she had gleaned from the meld.

He sat down at his desk and got right to the point. "Have you been able to process anything from the meld yet?"

She nodded curtly. "Much of it is still coalescing, but I believe I understand enough now to give you a brief overview."

"Go ahead."

T'Pol took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, before she spoke. "Her name is, as we know, Hoshi Sato. She is an ensign in a quasi-military Earth organization known as Starfleet. Her assignment is as the ranking communications officer on board the flagship, _Enterprise_, where her language skills have proven invaluable over the last four years."

The fact that Sato had had difficulty adjusting at first to life aboard a starship was irrelevant, and of no interest to the captain, so she refrained from mentioning it. "Although the ship's primary mission is exploration and first contact with other species, it has been embroiled in a number of conflicts." Drawing another deep breath, she concentrated on an area of Sato's memories that were particularly turbulent and vivid. "Her Earth was attacked by the Xindi about two years ago at the instigation of a transdimensional species."

When she paused, Archer said, "The Xindi? In our universe, didn't they destroy themselves millenia ago fighting amongst themselves?" At T'Pol's nod, he continued, "Obviously Sato's Earth survived, or she wouldn't be here."

"Yes, although her memories of that time are confusing. She feels guilt about something that happened during the conflict. She aided the enemy, although it was against her will. She felt ashamed and violated."

Archer raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"While there was an unconsciously imposed barrier around her memories which I was able to breach, there is a blank area concerning how she arrived here," T'Pol said. "It is conceivable that she may never remember how that happened. If you consult Doctor Phlox, I am sure he would tell you that head trauma cases often do not recover memories immediately prior to the event that caused the injury."

Archer snickered. T'Pol's thinly veiled dislike of the doctor, not to mention Tucker and most of the rest of the crew, never failed to amuse him. "I'll take your word for it," he said. He got to his feet and began to pace, throwing an occasional glance at the woman in his bed. "But what about the technology in her universe?"

T'Pol braced herself. The captain was going to be disappointed. Sato was a linguistic genius, and had little background in tech other than what was needed to operate and maintain the communications equipment on her ship. That she could pilot a shuttle was still something of a novelty to Sato herself. "Her primary area of expertise is communications, which is not surprising considering her facility with languages. Of technology, she knows nothing more than the basics. She is not an engineer, although she does possess an aptitude for programming."

Archer's pacing had taken him near the bed, where he stopped and frowned down at Sato. "That probably ties in with her talent for languages."

"Yes. Various forms of programming are considered languages in their own right," T'Pol said, relieved that the captain hadn't been overly upset to learn that his hopes of gaining new technology from Sato were non-existent. "There is one other thing."

"What?"

"Many of the people she now remembers from her universe have counterparts here."

Archer swung around to face her. "Really?"

"Yes. There is a Captain Archer in her universe. A Doctor Phlox. A Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed. Even I apparently have a counterpart in her universe."

Archer studied her closely, and T'Pol realized she hadn't been able to hide her feelings about what she'd found in Sato's memories. "There's something else, isn't there?" he asked.

"While there are many similarities between the two universes, there are fundamental differences," T'Pol said reluctantly.

"Such as?"

How could she explain that Sato came from a universe where humans hadn't forcibly claimed the dominant role, where the barbaric nature of humanity had been overcome? True, humans in Sato's universe resented Vulcans to some degree, not because of race hatred, but mainly because of the Vulcans' own perceived superiority. But that hadn't prevented humans from willingly working with them. Even more startling, T'Pol's counterpart was a trusted officer -- the _first _officer -- of that Archer's _Enterprise_. That was something that could never happen here, where she had already obtained more than she could ever hope to have by rising to the position of science officer on the empire's flagship.

There were some things the captain did not know that would not hurt her either, she decided. But she had to tell him something. "The humans in her universe are not as aggressive or strong as in the Terran Imperial Empire. In fact, her Earth does not have an empire, just a few scattered colonies. Instead, they seek alliances."

Archer smirked. "And how is that going to be a problem for us?"

"She may compare the two universes and find this one...cruel," T'Pol temporized, "making her unreceptive to your wishes."

Archer laughed. "As if I'd worry about cruelty." He chuckled again, and turned to look at Sato. "Do you think she's going to be all right?"

"You mean because of the meld?" T'Pol asked. At Archer's nod, she thought for a moment. "I do not believe she was harmed. It was, as the doctor said, an incredible amount of information for her to assimilate at one time."

The question now, T'Pol thought as Archer continued to gaze at the other woman, was how Sato would react to re-found memories, and to the fact that she was a long way from her home. She was among strangers who looked like her friends, but most definitely would not act like them, if what T'Pol had seen in her memories was any indication.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry I was later than usual posting this chapter. I was having trouble getting it to post, but the problem seems to be resolved now. Thanks for being patient. As usual, my reviewers are awesome!

CHAPTER 8

Something warm and disgustingly slimy was being dragged across Hoshi's face. With a startled exclamation, she sat up in bed. The doberman pinscher was standing on its hind legs, its front paws on the bed, licking her.

"Stop it!" she cried, pushing away the dog.

Laughter came from across the cabin as she wiped her face with the edge of the sheet.

"Dart was getting worried about you," the captain said.

Hoshi looked up to see Archer, seated at the desk, smiling at her. She started to return the smile, but faltered as it hit her that this wasn't _her _Captain Archer. She stared at him, trying to reconcile her abruptly recovered memories with what she'd experienced in the last few days. Of her more recent memories, the last thing she remembered was being in a mind meld with T'Pol. Since she had been lying down, she could only assume that she must have passed out during the procedure.

The meld had been successful. She remembered who she was. She remembered her past. But most important, she remembered that this wasn't where she was supposed to be. She'd been working on a project in the shuttlepod by herself, and without warning, here she was among people who looked like her friends and co-workers, but who obviously weren't. Thanks to her amnesia, at the time she hadn't even known that they looked like people she knew.

That was especially true of the man sitting across the cabin from her. He looked like the Jonathan Archer she knew, but he most definitely wasn't her captain. The uniform he was wearing was similar to what was worn on her _Enterprise_, but there were disturbing differences. This Archer's uniform was almost the same shade of blue as hers, but it was more severe in design. Not a jumpsuit, it consisted of trousers and a tailored shirt with a number of medals and military-style ribbons. In addition, she could see the handle of a pistol at his hip. Her Captain Archer rarely wore a phase pistol, and then only on dangerous missions away from the ship. What shook her, though, was that when she looked at this man's face, there was none of the kindness and compassion she'd come to expect from the man with whom she had worked the past four years and who had been something of a mentor to her.

Uncomfortable with this Archer's scrutiny, she glanced down, relieved to see that she was still in her uniform and not one of the skimpy outfits from the closet in the adjoining cabin.

"T'Pol was able to unlock your memories," the captain informed her.

Hoshi nodded mutely, not meeting his eyes. Before she'd recovered her memories, her time here had had a dream-like quality. Having no past to reference, the present had seemed unsettling but not overly alarming. Now, in possession of her life's experiences again, she felt trapped and worried about her future.

"So you remember your past now?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "It's all a bit...confusing."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, appearing for all the world as if he were settling in for a friendly chat. "How so?"

She darted a glance at him. He appeared relaxed, but she could sense the tenseness in him. He was like a coiled spring, ready to burst loose at a moment's notice, yet supremely confident. And he was waiting for an answer.

"Well, I feel I should know you," she said, "but obviously I don't."

"That's because I look exactly like a Captain Archer in your universe," he said.

Not trusting herself to say more, she nodded in agreement.

"According to T'Pol, the universe you come from is very similar to this one," he said. "You might be interested to know that there was a Hoshi Sato in this universe."

Hoshi stared at him. She'd been so fixated on the fact that he looked exactly like the Captain Archer she knew that she hadn't considered the possibility that another _her _might walk through the door at any moment. "Was?" she asked tremulously.

He clasped his hands over his stomach, slouching in the chair with Dart curled up by his feet. "Yes. She died about twenty years ago."

She looked away as she digested that information. It might have been interesting to meet the person who was her in this universe, although she probably wouldn't have liked her if she was anything like the other people she'd met so far. Maybe it was just as well, she thought, absently rubbing her forehead.

"Are you in pain?" Archer asked, startling out of her reverie.

"Not really. I was just...thinking."

"In what language?"

She jerked her attention back to him. "English."

There was a small smile on his face. Was he teasing her? That seriously creeped her out, because he wasn't the Captain Archer she knew, and now that she could make comparisons, she knew teasing was something this Captain Archer wouldn't do. It wasn't in his nature.

But his smile, so like one she'd seen for years, made her homesick for the security of her own _Enterprise_. She almost laughed, considering that when she'd first been on her _Enterprise_, she'd almost asked to be sent back home. In her universe, Captain Archer had talked her into sticking it out. Apparently, both captains could be very persuasive when they needed -- or wanted -- to be.

Now that she had her memory back, Hoshi felt at a disadvantage in more ways than one. First, she was in some parallel universe, which was bad enough. She had no idea what was going to happen to her, or if there was even a chance she'd be able to go back. Second, there were counterparts here for at least some of her friends and coworkers on her _Enterprise_. They didn't act like the people she knew, and worse, she didn't like how they acted. They could be indifferent, as she'd seen with this universe's Phlox, and possibly even cruel, which is the impression she'd gotten from her brief encounter with this universe's Reed.

And finally, she was in the bed of a man who, she admitted, scared her, and he was sitting no more than two meters away, staring at her in a very speculative manner. He had been very charming, even solicitous, since she'd woken up after the meld, but she knew it was an act. He wanted something from her.

She felt incredibly vulnerable. She slid her legs over the edge of the bed, not knowing what she was going to do other than get off the bed.

"You're wondering what's going to happen to you," Archer said as she got to her feet.

"Of course I'm wondering what's going to happen to me!" she snapped, suddenly irritable, before she caught herself. She looked warily at Archer, hoping she hadn't overstepped her bounds, whatever they might be in this crazy, mixed-up universe.

To her surprise, he didn't seem upset by her outburst. He appeared more amused than anything. He got to his feet and approached her where she stood by the bed. Towering over her, he led her to a chair at the table where they'd shared breakfast that morning.

"Your head does hurt, doesn't it?" he asked as she sat down.

"I do have a headache," she admitted. "It's probably the result of the meld. I remember the last time--" She inhaled sharply as a conversation between Trip and Malcolm she'd heard a long time ago came back to her. They had been discussing, after T'Pol had been taken for interrogation by the Suliban, how much information a prisoner should give to captors. Malcolm had adamantly insisted that name and rank were the only information that should be given voluntarily. Trip, on the other hand, had thought that sometimes there could be extenuating circumstances.

Archer, still standing, was watching her closely. "The last time what?" he prompted.

As far as she knew, she wasn't a prisoner here. They hadn't deliberately snatched her from her universe. If anything, they'd been suspicious of her because of the unorthodox manner of her arrival.

Then she shook her head. Everything was too complicated. Besides, she didn't think it would hurt to tell Archer that she'd melded before. "About a year ago, T'Pol...the T'Pol in my universe...performed a mind meld with me," she said at last. "Afterward, I had a terrible headache." She rubbed her temple. "It doesn't seem so bad this time."

"Why did you meld?"

Hoshi again weighed whether she should tell him, but found no reason not to. "I was on Earth, having dinner with Doctor Phlox. As we were leaving the restaurant, we were attacked and he was kidnapped. The meld was to gain information about our attackers that I couldn't recall."

"Was it successful?"

"Yes. We found out who the attackers were, and that they were specifically after Phlox." She thought it prudent not to go into the details of why the attackers were after Phlox.

Archer stared down at her a moment longer, then went to the com panel next to the door. "Archer to Phlox. Report to my cabin immediately."

A moment later, Phlox acknowledged the order.

Hoshi shifted in the chair. The Phlox of this universe wasn't someone she wanted to be anywhere near. "I don't need a doctor," she said.

Archer turned from the panel to look at her. "Maybe not. But I want to make sure you're all right after the meld. Phlox can give you something for your headache while he's here."

The captain had a point. If she got rid of the headache, she might be able to think more clearly. Right now, the whole situation felt like it was spinning out of her control. She'd just gotten her memory back, and she was desperately trying to reconcile the differences between the two universes. But if there was one thing she'd learned from her time aboard her _Enterprise_, it was that you just didn't sit and wait for things to happen. She needed to find out what options were available to her.

She sighed. She hoped she had some options.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Doctor Phlox came to the captain's cabin and performed a quick examination. As Hoshi suspected, the meld had not hurt her other than to give her a headache. Before leaving, Phlox injected her with an analgesic. Her headache receded almost immediately. Despite the revulsion she felt for this strange version of her Denobulan friend, she couldn't help but be grateful that he had eased her pain. No longer distracted by the headache, she could think more clearly, and she had a feeling she was going to need her wits about her.

The door had no more shut behind Phlox when the captain said, "Now, we need to decide what we're going to do with you." He began to pace the width of the cabin.

Hoshi, still seated at the table, got the impression that he'd already reached a decision. "I don't have much say in the matter, do I?"

"No, you don't," the captain said, adding, "That's very perceptive of you."

She tensed as he walked toward her, then relaxed marginally as he took the seat across from her.

"Unfortunately," he started, his elbows on the table and his fingers steepled, "you aren't going to be able to help me with the one thing I wanted the most after we analyzed the technology on your shuttle. T'Pol says your own memories confirm that your expertise is in communications, not engineering."

Hoshi peered warily at him. He didn't sound too disappointed. That was good. She hadn't seen him be overtly cruel or petty, but she recalled the conversation she'd heard between him and Phlox in sickbay. He'd ordered Phlox to wake her, despite the danger to her, instead of waiting until she roused on her own. That was a powerful first impression that hadn't left her. He was someone who put his own desires ahead of the welfare of others.

She felt compelled to defend herself, nevertheless. "Not everyone on a starship has an engineering background."

"True," he agreed, "but in your case, I had my hopes." He sighed heavily, as if resigned, but his manner had the aura of theatrics.

With a flash of insight, Hoshi realized she had been reading him correctly when she'd emerged from the bathroom in a towel earlier that day. The reason his reaction to her appearance had seemed off was because her subconscious had been analyzing his expression and demeanor, expecting him to act as if he was the Captain Archer of her universe. Her captain would never be so mean-spirited and rude as this one had been in that situation. And he wouldn't have taken pleasure in scaring her, as she now suspected was the case.

Now that her memory was back, however, and she was aware of where she was, she was certain that, while Archer wasn't happy that she couldn't provide new tech, there was something else about her that he was anticipating. Determined not to let him intimidate her any more than he already had, she sat up a little straighter and looked him in the eye. "You have something in mind for me."

"Your ability with languages is impressive," he said. "There is no one in the entire fleet who can speak more than four or five languages, and most of them have to use a UT at some point. As a skilled linguist, you can appreciate that relying on a machine for exact translations, not to mention subtle nuances, can be foolhardy. I've decided that you're going to be my personal translator."

His last statement hit Hoshi like a bombshell. Her mind was still in a whirl from the meld, but there was one topic she'd noticed that had been ignored. Unsure of her status, she hadn't brought it up, but he hadn't offered any information about it, either. It was what she'd wanted to know ever since she'd gotten her memory back. "But what about sending me home?" she asked.

He leaned toward her across the small table, his green eyes hard. "You might as well get used to this being your home now," he said.

Hoshi leaned away from him as his menacing tone sent an apprehensive shiver through her. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You mean it's not possible for me to go back?"

"I have no idea," he told her flatly.

"But--"

"It's not a high priority."

"It is to me!" Even as she argued, Hoshi was amazed at her boldness. She'd noticed the narrowing of his eyes at her outburst, and half expected the captain to slap her down, verbally or maybe physically. But the sudden sense of isolation, surrounded though she was by people who looked familiar, couldn't be denied. "I don't belong here!"

"You do now," he said between gritted teeth. It was obvious he was trying to hold his temper in check. "If you would be kind enough to let me finish."

Hoshi gulped. "All right," she said, but she was damned if she was going to apologize. She was the injured party here, in more ways than one.

"T'Pol and Tucker may figure out how to do that," Archer told her, "once they're finished going over what's left of your shuttle. And our current assignment isn't finished. That takes precedence over everything else."

It wouldn't hurt to find out what this _Enterprise'_s current assignment was. The more she could find out, the better she'd be able to gauge her situation. Bracing herself for another reprimand, she asked, "What is your current assignment?"

"Space anomalies in this sector that are interfering with ship transit."

Hoshi's breath caught in her throat. She wondered if this _Enterprise _had ever encountered the Xindi.

* * *

He saw Sato's face go pale. Strange. He'd expected that reaction sooner, when he'd almost lost his temper as she'd argued with him. But she'd stood up to him, and although he could tell she was afraid, she hadn't let herself be bullied. She may come from a background that was much softer than the Imperial Empire, but she was by no means weak.

But it was when he had mentioned the space anomalies that he'd seen the fight go out of her. There had been a momentary flash of terror in her brown eyes. Something bad involving space anomalies had happened to her. He was on the verge of asking about it when he saw her get a grip on herself.

"Have you ever encountered the Xindi?" she asked.

He shook his head, even as he remembered that T'Pol had said Sato's Earth had been attacked by the Xindi. "No. And I never will. They exterminated themselves a millenia ago, fighting amongst themselves."

At his words, Sato visibly relaxed. "That's good," she said. "That means the anomalies aren't theirs."

Archer frowned and leaned toward her, and this time, he noticed, she didn't seem upset that he was encroaching on her personal space. "Anomalies can be caused by any number of things," he said, "and sometimes for reasons we don't know. What is it about them and the Xindi that upsets you so much?"

Again he saw the hesitation that preceded some of her earlier answers. She was thinking about what she was going to say, or if she should even say anything. While that was a good quality in an officer in enemy hands, he didn't want her to think of him as the enemy. He wanted her to work with him, not against him. He also had a feeling that ordering her to tell him would only make her clam up, so he leaned back, trying to make her more comfortable and giving her some time to compose her answer.

"You're lucky," she said at last. "The Xindi attacked my Earth." She closed her eyes at what had to be a painful memory. "Seven million people were killed. And that was only a test of a smaller version of the weapon the Xindi planned to use to destroy Earth."

T'Pol had told him that Sato had been involved in that conflict, but hadn't given him any particulars. Seven million humans! Archer's face hardened. No one would dare try that with his Earth. They'd be destroyed before they got anywhere near the home planet of the Terran Empire. "Why?" he asked.

Sato didn't react to his harsh tone; she was too deeply entrenched in the emotions of what had happened in the past. Her gaze lost its focus as she began speaking. "A transdimensional species tricked the Xindi into believing Earth would destroy them at some time in the future. And the Xindi believed them!" She took a shaky breath, trying to regain her composure. "What the Xindi didn't know, but what we found out, was that the species from another dimension was trying to transform our universe to make it habitable for them. If they had been successful, it would have destroyed our universe as we know it." She looked at him with wide eyes. "The space anomalies that we encountered were a manifestation of the beginning of that change."

Archer stared at her for a long moment. It was possible that these transdimensional beings had counterparts in his universe. It might even be the same beings. Without the Xindi to aid them, they could be trying a different version of the attack they'd perpetrated in Sato's universe. Or the anomalies could be nothing other than any of a variety of space phenonmena for which there was no explanation.

But the possibility of an attack from another dimension couldn't be ignored. If there was the smallest chance it could happen, it had to be addressed as a threat.

He looked at Sato with new appreciation. She was going to be able to provide some valuable information after all. "You're going to tell us everything that happened in your universe's war with the Xindi, and everything you can remember about the anomalies and those transdimensional beings."

For once, he was pleased to see, she didn't argue.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks for the wonderful reviews!

CHAPTER 10

Hoshi spent a fitful night alone in the cabin adjoining Archer's. She'd been both relieved and anxious when he'd informed her that it was to be her quarters. Relieved, because that meant she wasn't expected to share his bed, although it did seem that every time she woke up, she was in it. The anxious part was because he could walk in any time he pleased, since there was no lock on her side of the door. It had been the first thing she'd checked after he'd dismissed her for the evening.

Archer apparently didn't trust her. The second thing she'd checked had been the door leading from her cabin to the corridor. It wouldn't open. The lock had been encrypted. Given enough time, she could crack the code. That was something she'd keep in mind if she needed an avenue of escape in the future.

The third thing she'd checked had been the closet, albeit reluctantly, because she'd already looked through the clothes once before. She could wear her uniform indefinitely, but she'd have to change at some point. If she picked something from the closet, she hoped it didn't give Archer any ideas. Although he hadn't been as courteous as a true gentleman, he hadn't given her any reason to believe that he wanted anything from her other than a working relationship as his translator.

There were very few pieces of attire in the closet that were suitable to wear in public. With an unladylike snort, she admitted there wasn't much she considered suitable for wearing in private, either. There was the black shift she'd worn already worn -- and wouldn't that just look lovely with her uniform boots -- as well as a strapless one-piece mini-dress in an awesome shade of red. At the first opportunity, she'd have to ask Archer if she could have some clothing that wasn't quite so revealing, as well as some sensible footwear.

She smoothed out as many wrinkles in her uniform as she could and, after a shared breakfast in Archer's cabin, the captain took her up three decks, just below the bridge, to a small meeting room. An oval table and six chairs were the only things in the room, besides the two people waiting for her.

One of the people she recognized. Actually, she recognized them both, but she'd only met one of them in this universe. T'Pol was seated at the middle of the table facing her. Seated next to her was a dead ringer for Commander Trip Tucker, wearing a uniform like the captain's but with not nearly as many medals and ribbons.

When the captain had said she'd be debriefed about the Xindi conflict in her universe, Hoshi had assumed he'd be the one doing the interview. That was not to be the case, she realized as Archer left her alone with these two uncannily familiar strangers. She stood tensely by the door, her hands clasped in front of her, until Tucker spoke.

"Have a seat, darlin'," he said.

His Southern drawl was almost too much to bear. On her _Enterprise_, Trip was a good and sympathetic friend. But this man, despite his exact resemblance, had a hard edge, and she'd heard arrogance underlying his seemingly friendly invitation.

She didn't mistake his displeased expression when she dawdled uncertainly by the door, so she hurriedly sat down across from T'Pol. The Vulcan woman appeared unconcerned. A closer look revealed that she was holding herself under tight control. Hoshi had served with this T'Pol's counterpart long enough to recognize the signs. Her nostrils looked pinched, and her eyes were positively glacial.

When Tucker shot a heated glance at T'Pol and she ignored him, Hoshi wondered about their relationship. Back home, Trip had an off-again, on-again relationship with T'Pol. That wasn't even taking into account that they'd been the parents of a child conceived without their knowledge, and the shared trauma of losing that child. She believed T'Pol returned Trip's feelings to some extent.

But this T'Pol detested this Tucker. Verbal language wasn't Hoshi's only area of communications expertise, and the body language between these two was like fireworks. Judging by the way Tucker kept stealing glances at T'Pol, he wasn't the least bit deterred by her lack of interest.

Tucker turned his attention back to Hoshi. "I've never met someone from another universe before," he said.

To which Hoshi said, "Until I woke up on this ship, I never had, either."

That made Tucker laugh.

T'Pol said, "We should begin."

"Where should I start?" Hoshi asked.

"At the beginning," T'Pol said, activating a data padd to record the conversation. "A chronological account of events of Earth's conflict with the Xindi in your universe will provide an overview. The individual events can then be analyzed as needed."

"All right," Hoshi said, marshalling her thoughts. "The attack on Earth...my Earth...was unprovoked. My _Enterprise _was away on assignment when it happened. We were recalled immediately."

Hoshi did her best to give an accurate account. As she talked, she wondered exactly what Archer was hoping to gain from this information. He'd said the Xindi here had long ago wiped themselves out, something she heartily wished had happened in her universe.

She also wondered why Tucker was present. T'Pol, of course, was already familiar with the subject, having seen it in her mind during the meld. But how much she'd seen, Hoshi didn't know. As an experiment, she tried leaving out some details, but T'Pol called her on it every time except for one instance. When Hoshi told them about her stay with Tarquin, she deliberately downplayed her receptivity to the exiled alien's telepathy, and for once, T'Pol didn't follow up with probing questions. Hoshi wondered if that was because T'Pol didn't want anyone to know she was more telepathically gifted than most humans, or because T'Pol didn't want her own abilities to be challenged.

When Hoshi talked about trellium D and its insulating properties against the anomalies, she understood that Tucker was there to find out more about any type of technology that was unknown in this universe. He wanted to know how trellium D worked and where it could be found.

"I really don't know much about it," she said, which earned her a frown from him. "We tried to use it, but we had to give it up because it's hazardous to Vulcans."

"How so?" he asked.

She grimaced, recalling the horrible encounter with the Vulcan ship in the Expanse. "They lose control of their emotions. Long exposure to it drives them insane."

"Well, well, well," Tucker said. "Some people might say that's enough reason to find some of that stuff." When he failed to get a reaction from T'Pol other than a cold look, he turned back to Hoshi. "You came across it in some place called the Delphic Expanse." He checked information on the data padd. "We don't have an area by that name around here."

"It's near where the Xindi's original homeworld was," Hoshi said.

"Original?" asked T'Pol sharply.

Apparently there were limits to what T'Pol had gleaned from her memory, Hoshi realized. The Xindi had almost destroyed themselves in civil war -- the Avian species had in fact been obliterated -- but the other five species had moved to a new world before becoming involved with the transdimensional beings who'd instigated their attack on Earth. T'Pol should have known that from the meld, but maybe there were limits on how much she could absorb.

"A civil war destroyed their home planet," Hoshi explained, "but enough of them survived that they were able to reestablish themselves on another world."

"Since some of them survived, their civil war seems to be a point of divergence between our two universes," T'Pol said. "Interesting."

Tucker drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Enough ancient history. Tell us everything you know about trellium D."

After she told them what little she knew, he wanted to know about the Xindi weapon. Hoshi was glad she didn't have much information to give them, for there was a good chance that these people would probably try to build something similar.

When asked how the war ended, she gave a brief account of her mission with Archer and Reed to destroy the Xindi weapon, but deliberately left out that, upon their return to Earth, they'd found themselves back in time and that aliens were working with the Nazis. She was afraid Tucker would not only grill her about the equipment those aliens were trying to build, but about the mechanics of time travel as well. So when T'Pol asked what happened when the Xindi weapon had been destroyed, Hoshi skipped right to the part where all the ships of Earth had come out to welcome them on their return.

"Seems like this _Enterprise _isn't the only one that returns home in triumph," Tucker said.

T'Pol, meanwhile, was giving her a searching look, as if she suspected something had been left out of the narrative. "That is everything?" she asked.

"With the Xindi, yes," Hoshi said.

T'Pol stared at her a moment longer, then seemed satisfied. Hoshi silently let her breath out. She could imagine being stuck in this room for days on end as Tucker and T'Pol questioned her about her entire career in Starfleet.

T'Pol deactivated the padd, signaling the end of the session. "I will distill this information and get it to the captain," she said, getting to her feet.

Now that the debriefing was over, Hoshi wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. "Uh, what about me?" she asked.

"You could come with me to the mess hall for lunch," Tucker offered as he stood.

He looked smugly at T'Pol, who stared sullenly back. Hoshi was still sure that T'Pol didn't care for Tucker, but she seemed offended by his offer to take her to lunch. Not wishing to get caught in the middle of whatever was going on between these two, Hoshi said, "I can go back to my cabin."

T'Pol turned to her. "As the captain gave us no instructions, that is probably what he intended. However," she said, her expression growing sly, "humans require sustinence on a regular schedule."

The T'Pol of Hoshi's universe didn't act like this. There was a good possibility that this T'Pol was jealous, or maybe it was just that her dislike of Tucker ran deep. In either case, Hoshi was sure that T'Pol was banking on Tucker getting in trouble when Archer found out he'd asked her to go to lunch with him.

Tucker's expression made it plain that he wouldn't take no for an answer. "You're going with me to the mess hall," he insisted.

* * *

Hoshi soon had doubts about accompanying Tucker. When he opened the door to the mess hall, a multitude of voices poured out. She'd probably recognize most of the people inside, but she wouldn't know them. And if gossip traveled as fast here as it did at home, they'd all know who she was.

"Don't them them intimidate ya, darlin'," Tucker said softly. "I'll protect ya."

She repressed a shudder at the notion she might actually need protection, and because Tucker's breath was hot in her ear. She stepped through the doorway, and almost bolted right back out. Every face in the place was turned toward her. Tucker gave her a slight push in the middle of her back that got her moving in the direction of the food cabinets. The mess hall was eeriely similar to the one where she had eaten meals for more than four years, and the food was in the same place_, _off to the left of the entrance in a series of cabinets.

One whiff when she slid open a cabinet door was enough to tell her she wasn't back home. Her nose wrinkled at the sour odor wafting out. It was all she could do to keep from gagging.

"Yeah, it's not so good sometimes," Tucker said from behind her. "This appears to be one of those times." He stepped past her, opened the second cabinet, and grabbed a plate which he handed to her. "Try this."

At least this smelled like it was supposed to smell, Hoshi thought as she gazed at the meat loaf and mashed potatoes on the plate. Not her favorite, but definitely better than what was in the first cabinet. Whatever it was. She hadn't been able to tell.

The other diners' interest in her waned as she meekly followed Tucker, who had selected the same entree, to an open table by one of the windows. Without a word, Tucker sat down and began eating. She followed suit. The meat loaf was bland, but a sprinkling of salt helped. The same was true for the mashed potatoes.

"This is one of my favorites," Tucker said, pointing at his food with his fork. At her dubious look, he leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial tone, "It's almost always edible."

After that, they ate in silence. Hoshi had no inclination to talk, and Tucker seemed absorbed in eating. He finished his meal quickly. "Not hungry?" he asked, looking at her half-eaten slice of meat loaf and barely touched potatoes.

She swallowed the tasteless mass in her mouth with difficulty and said, "It's a little heavy for me."

"Sure," he said agreeably. "It's hard to tell with that awful jumpsuit you're wearin', but you've got a nice figure. I bet you have to work hard to keep it that way."

The conversation wasn't going in a direction she liked, so when a shadow fell over their table, Hoshi was glad to be distracted. That is, until she saw who was casting the shadow.

"Mind if I join you?" asked Reed.

Tucker looked like he minded a lot, but that didn't stop Reed from sliding into a seat. He wasn't eating, Hoshi noticed, but he did have a steaming cup of coffee. She glanced at his face, caught his appraising gaze, and quickly looked away. The fear she'd felt the first time she'd met him made a second appearance.

"Captain Archer's got another little chore for you, luv," Reed said, "now that you're done with that boring debriefing."

What was it with the endearments? First Tucker calling her "darling," now Reed calling her "luv." While she might expect to hear something like that from her Trip on occasion, she had never heard the Malcolm Reed of her universe be anything but unfailingly polite and chivalrous. That alone was enough to tell her that this wasn't the man she knew.

"What might that be?" she asked, trying to keep her trepidation out of her voice.

"You're going to help me with a difficult translation."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: This is my personal favorite of all the chapters so far. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 11

Hoshi might not be comfortable with Tucker, but she was downright spooked by Reed. It was irrational, for she had only met him once before, and then only briefly, and she didn't have much by which to judge him. But, as with Archer, her first impression had been that this was a man who was supremely confident and who did as he pleased, even if it meant hurting others. She remembered thinking that she never wanted to be alone with him. Now she was expected to work with him. The idea made her blood run cold.

She glanced anxiously at Tucker, hoping he might provide some reason for her not to go with Reed, but she got no support from that quarter. He was glaring at Reed, who seemed amused by the engineer's irritation.

"Whenever you're finished here, we can get started," Reed told her.

His half-closed eyes as he gazed at her over the rim of his coffee cup sent an apprehensive shiver down her spine. The man practically projected depraved lust. She could continue eating, if only to delay going with him. But her appetite was long gone, and the little she had eaten was making her queasy. She pushed her plate away. "I'm finished."

Reed got to his feet, leaving his cup on the table. Hoshi reluctantly got to her feet as well.

Still seated at the table, Tucker looked up at Reed and asked suspiciously, "What's the captain want her to do?"

"As I said, translate. That's what she's supposedly good at," Reed answered. Shifting his gaze to her, he added, "We'll see just how good she is." The way he'd said that, it sounded as if he was talking about something other than translating.

Despite her uneasiness, it hit Hoshi how unlike their counterparts these two people were. Tucker intensely disliked Reed, who in turn seemed to take pleasure in angering the other man. The Trip and Malcolm she knew worked well together, but these two, she thought, probably enjoyed working against each other.

* * *

Reed didn't say anything as they walked to the turbolift and got in. He pressed the button for a lower deck. If this ship was the same as hers, they were going to the armory. Hoshi had no idea what could possibly be in the armory that required translation. Finally, as the door opened, her curiosity got the better of her.

"What am I supposed to translate?" she asked.

Reed hadn't looked at her the entire time they'd been in the turbolift. If anything, she expected him to crowd her personal space, but perhaps this was a tactic to make her even more nervous by implying she was insignificant. He looked at her from the corner of his eye as they stepped out of the lift and walked down the main corridor.

"You'll see," was the cryptic answer.

Halfway down the corridor, he stopped at a hatch and opened it. With an exaggerated sweep of his arm, he indicated she should enter first. As she had guessed, he'd brought her to the armory. It was laid out as on her _Enterprise_, with fire control panels and torpedo launchers, and weapon storage lockers lining the bulkheads. Two crewmen, dressed in black outfits similar to Reed's, were on the elevated level at the main fire control panel. Both gave them a cursory look before going back to their duties.

Now that she had her memory back, Hoshi couldn't but help but compare what she encountered on this ship and the one on which she'd served for close to five years. The biggest difference she could see in the armory was that there appeared to be twice as many torpedos stacked in racks near the launchers. She was well aware of what a torpedo could do, and she'd always been uneasy around them, as if even loud footsteps could set them off. It was silly, she knew, but she had a healthy respect for their destructive potential.

As Reed closed the hatch, she asked again, "What am I supposed to translate?"

He walked to one of the storage lockers and, after unlocking and opening it, beckoned her over. He reached in and pulled out a cylindrical object made of a type of burnished metal she'd never seen before. It was about half a meter long and ten centimeters around. He thrust it at her so abruptly that she almost dropped it. It was heavier than it looked.

"Be careful!" he scolded her. "For all we know, that might explode and take out this entire section of the ship if it hits the deck."

Hoshi had never seen anything like it. "What is it?"

"That's what you're supposed to determine. Do I have to keep repeating myself?"

Careful to keep a tight grip on whatever it was that she was holding, she said with a spark of defiance, "You're the weapons' expert, not me."

He exhaled heavily and rolled his eyes. Really, if he was anything like the Malcolm Reed in her universe, he should be very knowledgeable about weapons. Her area, on the other hand, was communications, and in her opinion, Reed wasn't doing a very good job of communicating.

He reached out, startling her with his lightning quick move, and took the cylinder from her. He rolled the cylinder over to show her the other side. Alien writing was etched into the metal.

"Oh," she said faintly.

"We found this in the same asteroid field where your shuttle showed up," he said.

"And you don't know what it is."

His eyes narrowed. "No."

Hoshi took the cylinder back from him, studying the markings. If she wasn't mistaken, the symbols were Risan. Unless some things were significantly different here, the UT should have been able to translate this. She rotated the cylinder in her hands, but she could see no openings or indications that it could be taken apart. It appeared to be one solid piece. She refocused on the first line of the inscription, and blinked. Maybe this was some kind of joke. "Why do you think it's a weapon?"

Reed crossed his arms over his chest. "It was in the midst of some asteroids that had been pulverized into fine dust. As it was intact, I had to suspect that it was responsible for the destruction of the asteroids, which are composed of the densest materials in the sector."

She studied Reed's face. He was deadly serious. He really thought this was some sort of weapon. She bit her lip, because she didn't think he would like it if she laughed at him. She cleared her throat and asked, "Did you try scanning its interior?"

"Of course I tried that!" he retorted, glaring at her. "I wouldn't be very good at my job if I didn't try everything at my disposal to figure out what this is." He huffed. "Scanners couldn't penetrate the material of the cylinder."

Hoshi had been reading the rest of the inscription as Reed had vented. When she got to the last three words, she almost did laugh. He was going to either be very disappointed or very embarrassed, or both.

"Can you read it?" he asked.

Time to practice some of those diplomatic skills her Captain Archer had been teaching her. One of his tips was to give background information before imparting what might be bad news, to prepare the listener and soften the impact. She was going to have to choose her words carefully. "Yes, I can read it. It's Risan."

"Risan?" Reed frowned. "That species was exterminated more than twenty years ago after they tried to secede from the empire."

So that was another point of divergence between their two universes. It probably explained why the Risan language wasn't in the UT here. Now that she thought about it, Risan hadn't been included on the language test she'd taken the day before. But even more important was that she'd learned that the Imperial Terran Empire was apparently so strong -- and vicious -- that it had not only wiped out an entire population, but its culture, including its language. In her universe, the people of Risa were peace-loving and friendly. She wondered if they'd been of a similar nature here.

"Well?" Reed asked impatiently. "What does it say."

Disgusted by what she was learning about the humans in this universe, Hoshi shoved the cylinder back at him. "You don't have to worry about it blowing up. It's not a bomb, or any other type of weapon." At his doubting look, she added dryly, "It's a souvenir."

His expression was priceless. His gray eyes had gone wide and his mouth actually gaped. She had a feeling it wasn't often that he was surprised. He recovered quickly, however, and through clenched teeth he asked, "What the bloody hell is it?"

"I'm not sure, but I'd guess maybe a...paperweight? The inscription indicates it's composed of a mineral that is supposed to aid in relaxation. It likely was jettisoned from a passing ship long ago, or got lost when a cargo hold with luggage lost compression and, because it's so dense, it wasn't damaged by whatever it was that destroyed the asteroids where it was found." She pointed to a symbol off to one side of the main body of text. "Here's the mark of the shop on Risa where it was purchased. And down here," she said, indicating the last line of text, "it says 'Made on Risa'."

Anger marred Reed's countenance as he glared at the object. "A bloody paperweight?" he asked incredulously.

Hoshi took a step back. He wasn't going to be one of these people who killed the messenger, was he? "Well," she said apologetically, "that's the best I can figure out, from its shape and obvious lack of functional purpose."

He'd been staring at the cylinder, but at her last words he switched his stormy gaze to her.

She cringed, hoping he wasn't going to throw the thing at her. "Or maybe it's a doorstop," she said. "Or...or...a meditation aid."

"Get out!" he yelled.

She turned and ran for the door before he could change his mind.

* * *

Hoshi was sure Archer wouldn't like her roaming the corridors by herself, but she wasn't about to go back to the armory and ask Reed or one of his black-suited cohorts for an escort. That would be asking for trouble. Besides, she'd done what had been asked of her. It wasn't her fault that Reed didn't like the results.

Her hurried steps slowed as she approached the turbolift. She probably should go back to her cabin. That is, if she could get in her cabin, because as far as she knew, it was still locked and Archer hadn't seen fit to give her the code. But she'd been cooped up for so long. The only time it seemed she was allowed out was when they wanted something from her: the language testing, the debriefing about the Xindi conflict, and lastly, the translation of writing on some pseudo-weapon.

If she'd been back home, she might have gone to sickbay to visit Phlox and his animals, but that was out of the question here. She shuddered as she remembered the cool indifference in the eyes of the doctor of this universe.

As she pushed the button to summon the lift, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective surface of a bulkhead panel. Her uniform, which she'd worn for two days in a row, was looking rumpled. If she could get into her cabin, she could change into something else. Because none of those clothes appealed to her, however, she dismissed that idea.

The lift door slid open and she stepped in. Her hand hovered over the control panel as she debated where to go. Maybe she should find the captain. Maybe he could let her back into their shared quarters, because she was sure he didn't leave his cabin unlocked, and so trying his door was out of the question too. But she didn't want to go running to Archer for every little thing. It was enough that she was going to have to ask him about getting her some decent clothing.

As she continued her internal debate about what to do, she realized that the turbolift controls she'd been staring at were were almost identical to those back home. While the people here were markedly different, the ship itself didn't seem to have any major design differences. She could see if there was one particular department that was in the same place, and thereby take care of one of her problems.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I keep repeating myself, but I can't help it. The reviews have been wonderful. Thanks!

CHAPTER 12

Archer wasn't happy as he strode down the corridor to his cabin. He hadn't seen Sato since that morning, when he'd left her with Tucker and T'Pol, but he'd kept track of her whereabouts until about an hour and a half ago, when she'd been translating that information for Reed. Now he had no idea where she was. He could issue a shipwide alert to find her, which certainly was his privilege as captain but demeaning because the crew would think he'd lost his woman -- even if she wasn't his woman in _that _sense -- but what the crew didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He was going to have to track her down himself.

But first, he had to feed Dart. He'd stop by his cabin, feed the dog, then take the canine along when he went looking for his missing translator. Dart wasn't much of a tracker, but when they found Sato, the ferocious doberman would be enough to give her a good scare.

Once her exceptional language skills had become known, Archer had realized that Sato provided him with a unique opportunity that he wasn't about to waste. Her skill with languages could only boost his career. He could imagine walking into a tense confrontation with aliens, and Sato being able to tell him what they were talking about amongst themselves.

Adding to her uniqueness was that she was from a different universe. She had no ties here, and therefore, no loyalties to anyone. He intended to exploit that by making her loyal to him. For now, she needed to be kept in line, or he could have problems with her later.

Her disappearance had started innocuously enough. T'Pol had showed up at about twelve-hundred hours on the bridge to write up the report of the debriefing. She'd informed him that Tucker had taken Sato to the mess hall. He'd been about to tell T'Pol to have Tucker bring Sato to the bridge when Reed, who'd been listening to their conversation from the tactical station, had asked permission to have Sato look at that piece of space debris that he was so sure was a weapon.

"It has writing on it that our UT can't decipher," Reed had said. "She might be able to tell us what it says."

Archer had agreed, thinking that it would be a good first test of Sato's abilities. He also remembered thinking, as Reed had left the bridge, that it might get the tactical officer off his back about running test after futile test on the cylinder.

Sato had indeed been able to translate the writing, he had found out later, and had figured out that the object was a worthless souvenir from a dead civilization. Archer almost wished he could have been there to see Reed's face when she'd told him. But any humor in the situation was negated by the knowledge that Reed, in his anger that the so-called weapon was nothing more than a cheap knick-knack, had ordered Sato out of the armory. Archer had found that out when he'd called down to the armory to see how the translation was progressing. It was little consolation that a suddenly contrite Reed, realizing that he'd angered the captain, had offered to hunt her down. Archer had turned down the offer, but had put Reed on report for a week.

What was really bothering Archer, though, was that he hadn't thought she'd wander off on her own. He'd expected her to be too timid to do anything but come find him. He'd deliberately let the crew believe she was "the captain's woman," which afforded her a certain amount of protection, but as far as he knew, she wasn't aware of that.

Archer entered his cabin. His irritation grew when he didn't see his dog. "Dart!" he called out. "Where are you?"

A bark came from the adjoining living quarters. Archer halted, staring at the open doorway between the two cabins. He was sure the door had been closed when he and Sato had left for her debriefing that morning. He slid his pistol out of its holster on his hip and cautiously approached the doorway.

The clicking of nails on deck plating was followed by Dart trotting through the doorway from Sato's cabin. At a hand signal from Archer, the dog obediently sat at his feet. "Who's in there, boy?" he whispered.

The dog, obviously, couldn't answer. Instead, it leaped to its feet and ran back through the doorway, after which there was a startled feminine shriek from the other room.

"You big buffoon!" he heard Sato yell. "Get off me! Stop it!"

A vision of Reed attacking Sato flashed through Archer's mind. The tactical officer had been embarrassed twice, first by finding out that the object he'd thought was a weapon wasn't, and then by angering his captain when he let Sato go off by herself. Archer wouldn't put it past Reed to blame Sato for his embarrassment. As a precaution, because Reed could lose his head sometimes, Archer had his pistol ready to fire as he burst through the open doorway.

And skidded to a halt. He slowly lowered his pistol as he took in the scene. Sato was reclining on the couch, Dart's upper body draped across her chest. She was ineffectually pushing at the dog, trying to get it off her, as it licked her face.

"Dart!" Archer thundered.

The dog, startled, jumped away and cowered off to the side. Sato looked like she was cowering too, even though she quickly sat up on the couch. He watched, his visage stern, as she wiped her wet face with her hand.

Archer was so mad he didn't trust himself to speak. That was another thing he'd learned during his rise in the fleet: Don't act or say anything on impulse. Rather, think things out, and come out ahead of the competition which might act more recklessly. Right now, however, he was so angry about a number of things that he was having trouble thinking straight. He'd already been out of sorts that he hadn't been able to keep track of her. Then, he finds her here, in their shared quarters -- and he hadn't given her the code to open the doors! How the hell did she get in? And finally, when he does find her, his fierce guard dog is slobbering all over her like a lovesick puppy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, the muscles of his face taut as he tried to keep from shouting.

Sato looked confused. "You told me this was my cabin."

"I know that!" he did shout as his temper frayed. "Do you take everything literally? How did you get in?"

"Oh." Sato ducked her head. "I saw Cunningham in the corridor. I asked him to let me in."

Archer's anger cooled somewhat. His personal steward was the only person on board besides himself and T'Pol who knew the code to the door lock on his cabin. But he wasn't yet mollified. He glanced at Dart, who whined. He'd never seen the dog act like this around anyone, himself included. "How did you make friends with Dart so fast?"

A blush stained Sato's cheeks. "I...uh...talked to him in German. He seems to like it, especially when..."

"When what?" Archer prodded, and saw her blush deepen. A part of him had to admit it was rather endearing, but only a small part. He had to get to the bottom of her hold on Dart, if only to retain control over the dog. "What does he like?" he demanded.

Sato closed her eyes. "When I talk to him in German...in baby talk."

Archer glared at the dog, which looked back at him with soulful eyes. This ferocious canine that responded only to his commands had been reduced to puppy-like behavior by baby talk? "What exactly did you say to him?"

Sato opened her eyes but wouldn't look at him. "Wer ist ein grober, schlechter Hund?" she said softly.

Archer frowned, trying to translate the words with his meager knowledge of German. "'Who's a big, bad dog?'" Then, incredulously, "In baby talk?"

Sato nodded and shrugged at the same time. "You know, kind of high pitched and...and kind of...mushy sounding."

He considered what she'd told him. A human male might be won over by a pretty face spouting nonsense, but a dog? "Say that to him again the way you did before I came in."

She looked puzzled. "Why?"

Because he didn't believe her, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "Just do it," he ordered.

She took a deep breath and uttered the magic words in a sickly sweet tone. Dart leaned toward her, whining, before swinging his head back to look at Archer as if begging permission to go to her.

Archer sighed and gestured toward Sato. Dart bounded over to the couch, knocked Sato backward, and vigorously licked at her face. Sato did her best to hold him off, but even as she tried to push the dog away, she was laughing.

It was a sound Archer didn't often hear, especially happy laughter.

"Dart," he said in his command voice, "hergekommen."

The dog immediately stopped pestering Sato and came to his side. "You tell anyone Dart likes baby talk in German," he told Sato, shoving the pistol back in his holster, "and I _will _shoot you." It was only then that he noticed something different about her. "Stand up," he ordered her. "Where did you get those clothes?"

Sato got to her feet and glanced down at herself self-consciously. "I went to the quartermaster's store after I left the armory."

Archer gazed appraisingly at her. "It suits you," he said at last, "even if you aren't entitled to wear it."

"There wasn't anything else available!" she said, a stubborn glint in her eyes. "If I have to go out among the crew, I'm going to wear something decent. I can't wear _my _uniform day in and day out, and I'm not about to wear those skimpy bedroom outfits in public."

He didn't want her traipsing around, escorted or not, in revealing clothing, although Imperial uniforms for women did tend to emphasize their best assets. He noted there was no rank insignia on the outfit she wore, which was the standard blue form-fitting tank top that bared the stomach, and low-rise trousers which hugged the hips.

Her trip to the quartermaster's store explained what she been doing during the time he hadn't known where she was. He felt the last of his anger slip away as he realized that she had a valid point, and that he should have thought of it first. She needed something to wear other than what was in the closet. Almost all the women who'd occupied this cabin before Sato had had their own clothing, and he'd had those articles removed after they'd left. All that was left were the more intimate items that he'd provided for them.

"I also got a few personal things I needed, like a hair brush," she said.

Instead of falling down to her shoulders, her hair was in a pony tail anchored high on the back of her head, allowing it to swing free as she moved. It was a much more sedate, professional look, although he personally didn't prefer it.

He shook his head. His personal preferences didn't matter, because he wasn't interested in her that way, he told himself. He didn't allow himself to have that type of relationship with someone with whom he had to work closely. She was going to be his translator, that's all.

"That's fine," he said, and turned away, intending to go back to his cabin. Dart still needed to be fed. But then he had another thought, and he turned back to her. "How did you pay for everything?"

Her blush, which had been fading, rose in her cheeks again. "I, uh, told the quartermaster to put it on your account."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Wow! What a great response to the last chapter. Thank all of you for the reviews.

CHAPTER 13

The days fell into a routine. Hoshi found she had plenty of time on her hands.

Each morning, after a night spent by herself in her cabin, she would have breakfast with Archer in his quarters. Afterward, she would go with him to the bridge, where she'd been assigned to an out-of-the-way auxiliary station. She'd check any transmissions that had been picked up in the past day that were in other languages, translate them, and file them with the communications officer on duty.

When Hoshi had first been told to translate the communiques, she hadn't thought it could possibly take all morning. But one of _Enterprise'_s routine operations was to pick up any transmissions in its area. They were looking for anything that might be considered treasonous to the empire, she supposed. It was amazing how many transmissions there were, and how many weren't accurately translated by the UT. The first day, there had been quite a backlog to wade through. As she caught up over the following days, she realized that any free time she might have could be devoted to upgrading the UT, but she held off making that suggestion. She couldn't put her finger on the reason, but somehow it just felt wrong to voluntarily help these people. The best she could rationalize was that she felt like she needed to hold something back, in case she needed it later, much like she hadn't tried breaking the code on her cabin door yet.

To her surprise, lunchtime was proving to be the most interesting portion of her days. T'Pol always accompanied her to the mess hall. That was probably the captain's doing, Hoshi thought, and although she didn't need a babysitter, she was grateful. The presence of the Vulcan kept most of the other members of the crew at bay. As was the case back home, the majority of the crew was male, but the brazen looks she got from the men here were unsettling. She wondered if that was because they knew she was sharing the captain's quarters and therefore thought some hanky panky was going on, or if the men had fewer moral constraints than they did in her universe.

T'Pol, once her initial icy demeanor thawed, was an interesting conversational companion. There were times Hoshi had to remind herself that this wasn't the T'Pol with whom she served. But in both universes, T'Pol was intelligent and articulate. Hoshi soon found that T'Pol was as curious about her universe as Hoshi was about hers, and they spent their lunch breaks comparing the two. Although the conversation was usually on general topics, Hoshi couldn't help but wonder if T'Pol's glimpse into her mind during the meld had fueled her curiosity, in particular about the role of Vulcans in Hoshi's universe. Indeed, T'Pol had asked several insightful questions about first contact between Vulcan and Earth. Hoshi was willing to bet it wouldn't be long before T'Pol asked about her counterpart.

Much as Hoshi would have liked to continue some of their conversations, T'Pol had to return to duty after lunch, but not before she escorted Hoshi to the captain's cabin and unlocked the door for her. Archer hadn't given Hoshi the code to either his or her cabin doors. She could only surmise that he thought she might try to slip out some night, although what mischief he might be afraid she could cause she didn't know.

Her return to Archer's cabin marked the point in each day when everything came to a screeching halt. Long afternoons with nothing to do stretched out before her. Sometimes she played with Dart, other times she tried to read some literature in the computer database, although a lot of the recreational material was too vulgar for her taste. When the captain's duty shift was over, he'd stop by the cabin to get her and they would share dinner in his private dining room located off the ship's mess hall. The evenings were equally long, as Archer was often engrossed in mission reports or communiques from fleet headquarters. Hoshi had gone so far, with Archer's permission, as to groom Dart in the evenings, simply to have something to do.

After a week or so, Hoshi was bored to tears, as well as confused. No mention had been made of trying to find a way to send her home. She tried to ask T'Pol about it during lunch a couple of times, but the Vulcan had responded with cool silence. Hoshi had eventually dropped the subject.

In the meantime, she continued her work translating messages. If she upgraded the UT, she reasoned, Archer wouldn't need her any more. Or maybe she could tell him that she could upgrade the UT, but wasn't going to do it until he promised to look into sending her home. That might give her some leverage, but from what she'd seen so far, this Archer didn't like to be forced into anything. Quite the opposite. He might decide to force the upgrade information from her, and an involuntary meld with T'Pol would not be pleasant.

She was listlessly pacing around her quarters one afternoon when she heard Archer's door slide open. A glance at the chronometer showed that he was back early. She stuck her head through the open doorway of their quarters. She'd taken to leaving it open except when sleeping or changing since her claustrophobia tended to kick in when she had nothing with which to distract herself. She saw Archer taking a seat at his desk.

"Is something wrong?" she asked as he punched away at the computer keyboard.

"Not at all," he responded, his attention riveted to the screen. "Come here. I want you to see something."

Hoshi walked over to look over his shoulder. The screen showed a vibrant green planet rotating peacefully against a field of stars.

"That's our next stop," he said. "Fleet headquarters has finally seen fit to send us somewhere useful, instead of wasting our time cataloguing space anomalies."

Hoshi's first reaction was dismay. Science might not be her forte, but she realized that by remaining in the area where she'd been found, there was a better chance of being sent home. Her second reaction was to wonder why Archer was telling her about this new assignment, unless it had something to do with her.

"What planet is that?" she asked.

"Balanti IV," he replied, which meant nothing to her. There was no planet that she knew by that name in her universe. "They've been sending high-grade deuterium as tribute to the empire for decades. Now they've decided they want something in return. They're withholding shipments of deuterium until their demands are met."

"So they're part of the empire?"

"A subject planet," Archer said. He snorted derisively. "Not really a 'part' of the empire in the sense I think you mean."

So the people of Balanti IV were basically slaves, just another of the empire's conquests in what she was learning was a very long list, if her conversations with T'Pol were an indication. Or maybe they were free people, and paying tribute with deuterium, which was essential for warp engines, kept the empire appeased. "Are they human?" she asked.

"Of course not. They're humanoid. That's where you come in."

"You want me to translate during the negotiations," she said flatly.

This earned a belly laugh from Archer. "There aren't going to be any negotiations. I'm going to tell you what to tell them in no uncertain terms. They're going to toe the line, just like they always have, or the consequences will be dire. It will be up to you to make sure they understand that."

Hoshi was disgusted. The people of Balanti IV had been providing the empire with a valuable resource for decades, Archer had said, but when they asked for something in return, they were going to be slapped down. The Terran Empire apparently had no qualms about taking advantage of weaker species. To judge by Archer's smirk, he knew what she was thinking. Her stomach knotted as she realized that he actually enjoyed this type of work.

She wasn't in a position to argue imperial policies with him, but she might be able to make a small difference in how things went on this one planet. She jerked her head toward the screen. "I'll need access to any information you have about the Balantian people, their history, their culture, and so on, as well as what the UT database has on their language."

Archer tilted his head. "Why?"

"First off, I don't know their language, so I'll have to learn it."

"You can do that in a week? Because that's when we'll arrive there." At her nod, he added, "I knew you were good, but that's unheard of."

Hoshi knew her abilities. "If it's anything like most humanoid languages, a week should be more than enough," she said confidently.

Archer looked impressed, but not convinced. "If you say so. But the other information you want..."

Her Captain Archer would know why she needed the information. Her ability to learn new languages quickly hadn't been the only reason she had earned a place on her _Enterprise_. "What is said in any language has variables that tie directly to culture, history and other factors. If you take the context literally, it could be interpreted incorrectly." At his raised eyebrows, she explained, "Often the words themselves aren't enough. You have to understand how they came to mean what they do, even why particular words are used in a given situation."

Archer's attention waned as she tried to explain. He wasn't interested. In fact, he probably didn't care. But he turned to the computer, keyed in a few commands, and said, "There. You now have access to everything we know about Balanti IV." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Have fun. And make sure you're ready when we get there."

* * *

Archer still expected her to spend her mornings translating transmissions. That work could have been relegated to the UT, as it had been before, but Archer had insisted. Hoshi got the feeling he was testing her. If he really wanted to test her abilities, she thought, he ought to let her concentrate on the upcoming mission. But he hadn't asked her opinion, so she buckled down in the afternoons and studied harder than she had since when she'd learned the Xindi insectoid language.

It wasn't just the language she was studying. Balanti IV, she soon found out, wasn't the homeworld of the people who lived there. They'd been there so many generations, however, that they'd lost the knowledge of where they came from. On the face of it, that seemed unlikely -- how could you forget your heritage? -- but the planet was poor. Reading between the lines of the information Archer had allowed her to access, it became clear that in the struggle to survive on Balanti IV, everything else had become unimportant, even keeping track of history. The population had been involved primarily in farming, trying to eke out a living, until deuterium had been discovered forty years ago.

Until that time, Balanti IV had been beneath the empire's notice. The discovery of a vital component for starships, however, had immediately attracted attention. The empire had swooped in and taken over. Now not only did the Balantians have to devote much of their time and energy to mining deuterium, almost all of which went to the empire, they still had to support themselves. They were too weak to fight back. The squalid conditions had deteriorated even more.

Things must have become so bad on their world that they had to stand up to the empire, even if it meant their destruction. Hoshi had no doubt that the empire would simply wipe out the Balantians and bring in contract labor or slaves to do the mining.

These people needed help, but all the empire was concerned about was its precious supply of deuterium. It didn't matter what had to be done to ensure that supply. Hoshi was going to see if she could change that.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

A security team had been transported to the surface of Balanti IV. Archer and Hoshi were on the platform, waiting for word from Reed that it was safe to be transported down.

"Ready?" Archer asked her.

Hoshi nodded.

"You're sure you understand their language?" he asked tersely.

Hoshi gripped the portable UT a little tighter. She didn't think she was going to need it, but it was a good precaution to bring it along. "Yes. It's a relatively simple language. It's very similar to Akaali, which I know."

The transporter operator, a red-haired man who Hoshi didn't recognize as having a counterpart on her ship, interrupted their discussion. "Sir, Lieutenant Reed reports that it's taking longer to secure the site than he previously anticipated."

Archer nodded curtly in acknowledgement. He turned back to Hoshi. "Akaali? I don't think I've heard of that."

Probably because the empire wiped them out long ago, Hoshi thought cynically, but she didn't say that. "The Akaali were one of the first alien species my _Enterprise _encountered. Their civilization wasn't very advanced. They were on a level with Renaissance Europe on Earth."

It had been an interesting experience to disguise herself as one of the Akaali and walk among them to learn more about their civilization. Come to think of it, those people had been exploited by an outside race, sort of like what the empire was doing to the Balantians. Unlike the empire, however, the Malurians had operated stealthily. Their covert mining operation for a component used in making explosives had been contaminating the Akaalis groundwater, sickening and even killing some of them. She'd been very proud of her Captain Archer when, even though he didn't have to, he had sent the interlopers packing.

The similarity of the two languages, Akaali and Balantian, was intriguing. It might be that the Balantians had originally come from Akaali, if there was such a species in this universe. Archer had said he wasn't familiar with the language.

A buzz came from the transporter control panel. "All clear now, sir," the operator said. "Lieutenant Reed has sent the coordinates."

"Send us down," Archer ordered.

Hoshi straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. She supposed they could have taken a shuttlepod down to the surface, but she'd figured out Archer's reasoning for using this mode of travel. Transporter technology would impress the inhabitants of a poor, backward planet, and reinforce that the empire was a lot stronger than they were.

She wanted to help the Balantians if she could. For that reason, she had worn her own _Enterprise _uniform today. She felt that it symbolically distanced her from the empire and its oppressive policies, as well as reminding her that, where she came from, people tried to help each other.

Hoshi shut her eyes as the transporter beam surrounded them. She had never liked being transported, especially that time she'd been in the beam for something like eight seconds but which had seemed like several days. Her mind had cooked up a whole story about the ship being in danger, not to mention that she'd thought she was slowly disappearing as her molecules lost their cohesion.

She tried to put that experience out of her mind as the transporter beam ramped up. There were the usual sensations: a tingling on her skin, a high-pitched whine that hurt her ears, and a moment of dizziness followed by a few seconds of disorientation as she opened her eyes to new surroundings. She found she'd been holding her breath, so she exhaled heavily as she took stock of where she was.

They'd been transported into the center of a large, brightly lit room. It had a high ceiling but no windows and only one door. There was no furniture. This room was easily defensible from outside attack, if the need arose. Indeed, Reed and his team, holding phase rifles, were ranged at strategic points around the room. She wondered if Reed had considered that, with only one exit, this could also be a room in which they could become trapped if the transporter suddenly became unavailable. Then she remembered his counterpart in her universe, and she was certain this Reed was aware of that possibility. His arrogance and perceived superiority, along with a very large starship parked in orbit, probably had led him to dismiss these people as a threat.

The only other people present were two Balantians standing near the door. They were both men of average height, slender, and with dark hair. They could have passed for human but for small horizontal ridges on their foreheads, reinforcing Hoshi's surmise that these people had originated from Akaali stock.

Hoshi took her place beside Archer as he waited for the aliens to come to him. As the Balantians slowly approached, she tried to read their expressions. They were putting up a brave front, but she could see they were scared. A small trickle of blood came from the corner of the the mouth of one of the men. She wondered if he had been part of the reason the site had taken longer to secure than had been anticipated. She also noticed that while the simple clothing of the pair appeared well worn, it was neat and clean. They might be poor, but they had pride.

Archer didn't say anything. He stared dispassionately at the Balantians, which made them more nervous. Hoshi could see Reed, a smug look on his face, several paces behind them. He was enjoying the Balantians' discomfort. He probably was the one responsible for the injury.

Hoshi didn't dare break the awkward silence. Her eyes kept moving from Archer, to the Balantians, to Reed, and back, as she waited for a cue to do something. The only thing she was certain of was that, as translator, it was not her place to be the first to speak.

At last, the Balantians seemed to overcome some of their fear. The man with the cut lip spoke haltingly in his native language. Hoshi was able to easily translate what he said without the aid of the UT. She glanced at Archer, who, looking at her from the corner of his eye, nodded.

"He says welcome to their planet, and thank you for responding to their invitation," she said.

"Invitation?" he asked in a deceptively mild tone, staring at the Balantians. "It was blackmail, and the empire doesn't tolerate blackmail. Tell them that."

Hoshi swallowed and did as he ordered. The Balantian who had spoken didn't even blink, but the other began to wring his hands. Hoshi decided the speaker was the higher ranking of the two. She was looking at him when he spoke again, and she was ready to give Archer the translation as soon as he'd finished.

"He says they are not trying to blackmail the empire." She heard Archer inhale deeply, so she hurried on with the rest of the translation before he could speak. "They are telling you the truth when they say they cannot meet the empire's quotas and are not holding anything back."

"Tell him to explain," Archer said.

At Hoshi's prompting, the Balantian spoke at great length, his words tumbling out so fast that she almost couldn't keep up. As the explanation dragged on with no sign of the Balantian stopping, Archer began to fidget. Hoshi held up her hand to cut off the Balantian.

She said to Archer, "He's going into great detail--

"I could tell," was his sarcastic observation.

He obviously wasn't interested in details, so she cut to the bottom line. "Because of conditions on this planet, they are unable, despite their best efforts, to comply with the empire's wishes."

That piqued Archer's curiosity. "What conditions?"

"There have been unusually heavy rains that caused mudslides near the deuterium mines this year. They've had to halt production until the slides have been cleared away. They've been at it for close to two months. It's taking longer than it might have because the few pieces of earth-moving equipment they have are old and break down often."

"They should have asked the empire for the the proper equipment," Archer said.

"They did. Several times."

Archer's head jerked around to look at her. "There was no mention of that in our mission orders."

Hoshi, who had gone over those same orders when he'd allowed her access to information in preparation for this mission, was aware of that fact. "They never received a response from the empire," she said, adding bitterly, "Until we showed up, that is."

Archer turned away. She could tell by his tight frown and clenched fists that he was angry. He had been ordered into a potentially dangerous situation without having all pertinent information at his disposal. Based on that incomplete data, he'd also decided to make the Balantians comply or exterminate them. She had to try to help the Balantians before he made any more decisions.

She stepped closer to him and asked softly, "Does it matter how this is resolved, just so long as it is resolved?"

He glared down at her. "Your point?"

"Get some of your engineers down here. Have them fix the Balantians' equipment," she suggested.

Archer raised an eyebrow. "Why should I do that?"

She almost lost her nerve under his stony gaze, but she couldn't back down without looking foolish. "You can have T'Pol run some scans of the planet if you don't believe these people, but I don't think they are lying. They're too scared to lie. If you help them fix their equipment and get it back up and running, the deuterium shipments will resume more quickly than if you slaughter them and bring in replacements. Isn't that what matters in the long run? Getting the shipments back on schedule as soon as possible so the empire can have its precious deuterium?"

Hoshi waited, holding herself as still as she could, as he considered her. After a long moment, he said, "That is what our mission orders are." He held her gaze, but then she saw the corner of his mouth quirk up in an approving smile. "I have considered your advice, and have decided it is the best course. Inform them that we'll be sending repair teams down shortly."

Hoshi swung back toward the Balantians. She smiled, trying to lessen their anxiety, and told them the good news. When the full impact of what she'd told them sank in, the more nervous of the aliens made a move as if to kiss her, but caught himself when Reed, still standing behind them, slapped his rifle down into firing position. The Balantians hurried out of the room, leaving the _Enterprise _contingent behind.

Archer opened his communicator. As he contacted the ship for their departure, he motioned for Hoshi to take her place beside him. Dreading the moment the beam would take her, she was trying not to tense when Archer said, "We wouldn't have exterminated them."

She stared at him. From earlier conversations about other civilizations in this universe and how the empire had treated them, she'd just assumed that would be the case. Maybe, she thought with a small smile, she'd been too hasty judging this universe.

Just before the transporter beam engulfed them, Archer said, "We would have shipped these people off to a work camp where they would have spent the rest of their lives. We wouldn't have exterminated them unless they rebelled against relocation."

Hoshi's smile was gone when she rematerialized on the transporter platform on the ship.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Wow again! I'm grateful for the reviews. You keep reading and I'll keep cranking out the chapters until this puppy is done.

CHAPTER 15

The Balantians' equipment was fixed and the mud slides were cleared away within three days. Shortly thereafter, the deuterium mines were operating at full production, and the ISS _Enterprise _was on its way back to the asteroid field to resume studying the space anomalies.

Archer wasn't pleased. Oh, he'd been practically ecstatic that the situation on Balanti IV had been resolved quickly and with a minimal amount of effort, especially since it had been accompanied by a commendation for him from fleet command. But his satisfaction had been replaced by irritation that his ship had been ordered back to its previous assignment.

Hoshi suspected Archer had been annoyed at being stuck at the asteroid field even before she'd shown up in this universe. The man had more than his share of pride. A few unguarded comments had revealed that he'd believed such work was beneath him. He'd much rather be putting down insurrections, real or imagined, as with the Balantians. What he failed to realize, or perhaps what he chose to ignore, was that in surrounding himself with the best officers in the fleet, he'd made _Enterprise _the best ship to investigate the anomalies. If T'Pol and Tucker had half the abilities of their counterparts in Hoshi's universe, there would be no one better suited to figuring out what was causing the anomalies and whether they posed a threat. Hoshi prayed that they'd find a way to send her home in the process. She'd been found in the asteroid field, after all. It wasn't much of a stretch of the imagination to think that the anomalies had something to do with her arrival here.

As for her own role in getting the deuterium shipments moving again, Hoshi had a sneaking suspicion that Archer had omitted any reference to her in his official report. She was more than content for it to be that way. If Archer's superiors got wind of her existence, she might be sent to this universe's Earth to be studied, interrogated, and poked and prodded. As appalling as that possibility was, worse would be that any chance of getting back to her own universe might be lost forever.

Archer wasn't so disgruntled, however, that he'd forgotten her contribution. At breakast the morning after they'd left the Balantian system, she found a large box at her place at the table. Under Archer's watchful eyes, she removed the lid and, after peeling back several layers of tissue paper lining the box, she found not one, but two jumpsuits. She pulled the one on top out of the box for closer inspection. It was tailored much as her own one-piece uniform but, from its cut and the strategic placement of darts, it would hug her body instead of hide it. The fabric, in a gorgeous shade of teal, was soft yet sturdy. Best of all, it fit her standards for decent attire. Speechless, she looked across the table at Archer.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"I love it!" She set it aside to pull out the second jumpsuit. It was identical to the first, except for its color. Lavender wasn't a shade she normally would have picked for herself, but beggars couldn't be choosers. "How did you get these? The quartermaster told me he didn't have anything available but Imperial uniforms."

"He doesn't," Archer said smugly. "There were some skilled seamstresses on Balanti IV."

"Oh! I didn't know that." Hoshi ran her fingertips over the lavender suit. The material from which the two suits were made was just as exquisite as that of the risque articles in her closet, but these jumpsuits were definitely more in keeping with her taste. Archer had gone out of his way to provide this clothing for her, arranging for them to be made before they'd left Balanti IV. They looked like they'd fit perfectly, and although she was eager to try them on, her mind shied away from wondering how Archer knew her measurements. She'd just hope that he'd asked the quartermaster for the size of the Imperial uniforms she'd obtained. "Thank you. I appreciate you getting these for me."

"I know you don't care for our uniforms," he said, his green eyes unfathomable as he gazed steadily at her.

Hoshi shifted in her seat. "As you pointed out, I'm not entitled to wear Imperial uniforms."

Her comment didn't fool him. He smiled sardonically. "Consider this a reward for a job well done. There's more if you continue to perform as well as you did with the Balantians. I'm beginning to realize there's more to you than meets the eye."

Cunningham arrived with their breakfast, so Hoshi was spared trying to continue that line of conversation. She wasn't sure she liked where it might lead. As disturbing as it was to contemplate that Archer might want to initiate a more intimate relationship with her -- something she wasn't sure she had any control over if he decided to make her his "captain's woman" in more than name -- she suddenly understood that he was coming to value her much as her own Captain Archer did. She was a gifted linguist who had at times been the determining factor in successful missions. If that was the case here, there was no way Archer would be willing to send her back to her universe.

As Archer gave Cunningham instructions for the day, she was consumed with thoughts of trying to get back home. She didn't belong here. She didn't even like being here. Unfortunately, she'd become a valuable commodity for Archer. So far she'd been treated well, but she had a feeling that could change in the blink of an eye if she did something to displease him. There was also the possibility that her somewhat privileged status could change if he wasn't around to provide the protection his rank provided her.

But in the bigger scheme of things, she most definitely didn't like the way humans acted in this universe. They were cruel, both to other species and amongst themselves. It reminded her of Earth before World War III, when greed and power were the motivating forces for many people. Differences had been distrusted, unlike the gradual human awakening in her universe to the fact that differences could make life better. Her universe still had a long way to go in that regard, but it was a lot farther ahead than this one.

Perhaps it was time to learn more about this universe, try to figure out why these people had come to be like this, and how she might use it to her advantage. T'Pol would be a good one to pump for information. The Vulcan was already curious about the points of divergence between their two universes. Since she was an alien in a human-dominated galaxy, she might also be more sympathetic to the predicament facing Hoshi, who felt very much an outsider among these humans.

She became aware that Archer was was waiting for an answer to something he'd asked but that she'd missed due to her distraction. "I'm sorry. My mind wandered for a moment."

"Already planning what you want for your next reward?" he asked.

She'd been planning, all right, but not along those lines. "Ah, no," she stuttered. "I'm just...very grateful...for your gift." She glanced down at the box on her lap. She hastily set it aside and took the plate of waffles he handed to her, flashing him a bright smile as she did.

* * *

Something was going on in that clever mind of hers. Archer could tell by the expression on her face. Sato was smiling, but it was one of those smiles that people used to cover up what they were really thinking. He had seen it plenty of times during his career as he'd clawed his way up through the ranks in the fleet. He'd even employed it himself on occasion.

True, she had seemed genuinely grateful for his gift. He hadn't missed her pleased astonishment when she'd lifted the first jumpsuit from the box, or the way she'd appreciatively stroked the material of the second. She might be prudish, but that didn't stop her from recognizing quality when she saw it. And to think he'd had second thoughts about giving them to her when he'd first seen them when they'd been delivered to him late the day before. They would fit her fussy definition of modesty by covering her up, but they'd also cling to every curve. A tantalizing invitation to imagine what was underneath apparel could be more provocative than blatant exposure.

He did believe her when she'd said that her mind had wandered while he'd been talking to Cunningham. He hadn't missed her preoccupation. Had his gift set off recollections of a similar gift from her Captain Archer perhaps? For the first time, he wondered about her relationship with that man. She hadn't spoken much of him, but it was clear she respected him. As he chewed a bite of his breakfast, Archer supposed that he could ask T'Pol for more information about the other Archer she might have gleaned from the mind meld. That had its drawbacks, though. T'Pol no doubt would infer that he was jealous of Sato's relationship with his double, unless he couched his questions carefully.

Then again, that might be a good thing. Much as T'Pol detested Tucker, the engineer was good at getting her to let certain things slip. Sometimes, when Archer was in one of those moods, he would make up something totally off the wall, tell T'Pol, and then see how long it would take for Tucker to find out. He'd laughed for days after Tucker had primped the engine room and the rest of the ship until it shone, thinking the emperor himself was coming for an inspection, when in reality they'd been tasked with picking up a traitorous official from a subject world for delivery to a prison facility.

So, if Tucker got the idea from T'Pol that Sato was a bona fide captain's woman, it would make the engineer keep his distance from her. And if Tucker could be dissuaded from pursuing Sato, the rest of the men in the crew should follow his lead. Well, except for Reed, who was a rule unto himself. But Reed knew what was important, and Archer seriously doubted the tactical officer would ruin his chances of advancement for something that, if Reed's past track record with women was any indication, would be nothing more than a temporary infatuation. He almost growled as he recalled the time Reed had taken a fancy to one of Phlox's med techs. Reed had, as usual, satisfied himself, but the woman hadn't been fit for anything afterward. Physically, she'd healed, but mentally--

Sato spoke up from across the table. "Is something wrong?"

Archer shook his head. "No. Why do you ask?"

"You were frowning like you were angry about something."

He grunted. Damned if she couldn't pick up cues from him, just as he'd been picking them up from her. He quickly changed the subject. "Finish your breakfast. Before we go to the bridge this morning, we have a stop to make." At her inquiring look, he added, "You're getting a bodyguard."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: You get to find out who Hoshi's bodyguard is going to be in this chapter. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I greatly appreciate it.

CHAPTER 16

Life in a parallel universe was turning out to be one surprise after another. Hoshi didn't know if she'd ever get used to it. She was grateful that one of the latest surprises had been pleasant: The new jumpsuits fit perfectly. She had changed into the teal version before she and Archer went to meet the next surprise.

The idea that she needed a bodyguard was upsetting because it made her feel vulnerable. She hadn't considered that she might need protection. There had been a few times she'd been afraid, first not knowing who she was, and then after her memory came back, dealing with being in a place that looked like what she was used to, but wasn't. Finding out she was in another universe was such a huge concept that, other than being preoccupied with wondering if and how she'd get home, it didn't seem quite real.

She had assumed that a bodyguard would be drawn from Reed's department, since he was chief of security as well as the tactical officer, just as he was in her universe. But instead of going to the armory, Archer took her to a section of C deck that on her _Enterprise _was a large cargo bay. Here, one side of the cavernous compartment was fitted out like a barracks, with rows of neatly made bunk beds. On the other side, which was open and brightly lit, there were about forty people in camouflage uniforms performing calisthentics, practicing hand-to-hand combat moves, or cleaning weapons. In a bizaare juxtaposition to the disciplined training she was observing, several people were lounging around a makeshift table in one corner, playing cards. It was the only space available for recreation that she could see.

Ground troops, she thought as she looked around. Unlike the ship's crew, which included a sprinkling of aliens, every person here was human. And, she noted, male. She'd become used to the presence of similar soldiers, the MACOs, aboard her _Enterprise_, but they had eventually mixed with the Starfleet crew. She hadn't seen any of these people on her trips to the bridge or in the mess hall. The Terran Imperial military structure apparently was quite rigid in its segregation of branches.

A few of the soldiers looked in her direction upon their entrance, but after a cursory glance went back to what they were doing. A tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair separated himself from those practicing combat moves to approach them. Hoshi gasped before she saw he wasn't the man she'd automatically assumed would be in charge of this group of soldiers on this ship.

"Something wrong?" Archer asked her.

Hoshi shook her head. "I thought I recognized someone, but I was mistaken."

The man stopped in front of Archer. "Sir," he said, standing at attention and saluting.

The frenetic beating of Hoshi's heart slowed. Other than a superficial resemblance, this man didn't look at all like Major Hayes, the MACO commander who had died during a mission to rescue her from the Xindi Reptilians.

"At ease, Colonel Hawthorne," Archer told him. "I need one of your men for bodyguard duties for Ms. Sato here. Someone who won't get out of line with her."

"None of my men 'get out of line,' sir," Hawthorne responded without rancor. Hoshi discerned from his tone and expression, and emphasized by his New England accent, that he was merely stating what to him was fact. His eyes flicked toward her, then back to Archer. "Corporal Mayweather should fit the bill."

Her heart started thudding again at the announcement that her bodyguard was to be the counterpart of one of her closest friends aboard her own _Enterprise_. She hadn't been able to help but wonder if she'd see a Travis Mayweather. Now she knew why she hadn't seen him on the bridge. As this universe's T'Pol had told her during one of their lunchtime discussions, points of divergence between their universes varied in scope and impact, and it would be foolish to assume that only major events had differed. It was entirely possible that the Mayweather in this universe would have a different career than that of the outstanding pilot she knew.

Hawthorne turned away and called out Mayweather's name. An answering "Here, sir!" came from the direction of the group doing calisthentics. A handsome young man, sweat gleaming on his dark skin, came toward them.

From a distance, he was the spitting image of the man who was her friend. But upon closer inspection, Hoshi decided he wasn't. There was no warmth or good humor in his eyes. Rather, they were as devoid of emotion as T'Pol's, except for an almost arrogant confidence which exuded from him.

"You're under orders directly from the captain now, Mayweather," Hawthorne said.

"Yes, sir," came the prompt response.

"Corporal, you are relieved of your duties with the troops," Archer began, "and are assigned as personal bodyguard to Ms. Sato indefinitely."

Mayweather shot a quick glance at Hoshi, then looked back to Archer. Just as when Hawthorne had looked at her, Hoshi got the impression that she wasn't being dismissed as unimportant, but rather that she'd been quickly assessed. She wasn't sure she liked it. She also couldn't tell what Mayweather's reaction was to this change in his duties. He maintained a perfect poker face.

"Each day, you are to report to my quarters to escort Ms. Sato to the bridge," Archer continued. "You will remain on the bridge with her, escort her to the mess hall at lunchtime, and not leave her unattended until she finishes lunch and returns to her quarters. At all other times, you are to consider yourself on call for when you are needed. Is this clear?"

"Yes, sir," Mayweather said.

"Good," Archer said. "Get cleaned up, then report to the bridge to begin your assignment. Dismissed."

* * *

Back to the grindstone, Hoshi thought wearily late that morning as she slogged her way through the most recently intercepted subspace transmissions. Mayweather's hulking presence loomed nearby where she sat at her out-of-the-way station at the back of the bridge. Not that she'd ever thought of her Travis as hulking, but this man, dressed smartly in a form-fitting camouflage outfit that showed off his heavily muscled arms and with a phase pistol at his hip, radiated a "don't mess with me" attitude. He hadn't even spoken to her, just nodded when he'd arrived on the bridge and had taken up his position. Strong and silent could definitely describe him.

Mayweather could probably snap her in half. The fact that he was here to do just that to anyone who was a threat to her made Hoshi a little more comfortable in his presence. At the same time, it made her consider that she could be in physical danger on this ship. To be sure, Phlox's dispassionate demeanor made her uneasy, and Reed's alternating blatant sexual interest and hair-trigger temper had rattled her, but she never actually had thought she'd be harmed. She'd had similar fears about Archer too, at first, but he'd shown himself to be honorable toward her, even if she didn't care for his selfish, sometimes petty tendencies.

With a sigh, she closed a transmission file between Tellarite ships -- that species was just as argumentative as they were back home, with a few new insults she'd never heard before -- and began work on the next transmission. This one was an acknowledgement of a cargo transfer from an Andorian freighter. She'd just begun translating it when she caught movement in her peripheral vision. It wasn't Mayweather; he was on the other side of her. No, this came from the direction of the tactical station. She closed her eyes briefly, hoping the movement had gone away when she opened them.

No such luck. Reed had gotten to his feet and was approaching her. She kept her eyes fixed on the screen on her console as his measured tread came closer, then stopped next to her.

"At ease, Mayweather," he told her bodyguard over her head.

Without turning her head, Hoshi glanced at Mayweather. He was standing tensely, one hand on the handle of his phase pistol.

"Oh, I see. New orders," Reed said in a derogatory tone when Mayweather didn't relax his stance. He shifted his gaze down to her. "But I agree. Something this delightful looking needs to be guarded."

Hoshi turned her head to look directly at him. "What do you want?" she hissed.

"Get up on the wrong side of the captain's bed today, did we?" Reed asked with prurient curiosity. He settled his hip against her console and crossed his arms over his chest as he let his gaze rake her from head to toe and back. When he spoke again, his voice was low and gravelly. "I just wanted to let you know I appreciate your change in apparel. I've hardly been able to keep my mind on my work since you showed up on the bridge today. Most of you is covered, but so delectably encased." He sneered faintly. "It's much better than that drab uniform from your universe."

Mayweather wasn't doing anything, so this type of harassment must be permissible in this universe, Hoshi thought in disgust. "If you don't mind, I have work to do."

"As do we all," Reed countered. "But all work and no play makes the tactical officer a dull boy. I have some free time this afternoon." He leaned in closer, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. "I know you do as well."

Although she was expecting something like this, Hoshi's eyes went wide and she almost gaped at him. He was propositioning her? On the bridge? And how did he know her schedule?

Two things happened simultaneously. Next to her, Mayweather took a step closer, while across the bridge, the door to the ready room slid open and Archer strode out. Reed nonchalantly pushed off from her console and sauntered back to his station, but not before giving her a look that said he didn't care how many people were around.

She was suddenly very glad that she had a bodyguard.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Several of you have asked if we're going to see the "real" Enterprise characters in this story. Perhaps. I can't tell you, because then you'd know! Do you really want me to spoil it for you? Again, thank you for all the great reviews!

CHAPTER 17

Hoshi couldn't wait to leave the bridge at lunchtime. Despite Mayweather's now reassuring presence, Reed's close proximity was making it hard to concentrate. Archer wasn't helping, either. After staring down Reed, he'd taken a seat in the command chair, which meant that his back was to her, as was hers to him. But he kept turning to look at her. She knew because she could hear his chair squeak each time he did it.

Such was her state of mind that she almost missed something in the Andorian transmission. At first listen, it appeared to be a standard confirmation of a receipt of cargo. She easily translated it. Her finger was on the key to close the file when she hesitated. The wording of the message was nothing out of the ordinary, but there was the faintest hint of background noise under the spoken words. It could be just normal interference, but she knew a few things about hiding information in subspace transmissions. She'd done it a few times herself back on her _Enterprise._

She separated the background noise from the transmission and, after a search through the available communications programs, ran it through a descrambling algorithm. Sure enough, there was another message underneath the main transmission. A few more commands on the console cleaned it up, and a harsh Andorian voice sounded clearly in her earpiece. The blood drained from her face as she mentally translated the words.

No matter what she thought of the politics of this universe, she had to immediately tell Archer what was in this message. It was too important to bundle in with the rest of her translations she would give to the communications officer when she was finished. She had no idea when or even if her translations were looked at after she turned them in, but this one had needed attention now.

She swiveled in her chair to face the command well. "Captain Archer!"

Every person on the bridge, including the captain, looked at her. So maybe she'd called out a little more stridently than was necessary. She kept her eyes locked on the captain, who had turned toward her, his eyes narrowed with displeasure. He had assigned her to work on the bridge, but apparently he didn't want her bothering him. That attitude ought to change when she informed him of what she'd found.

"You need to see this, sir," she said. As soon as she'd said it, she realized she hadn't meant to tack on the "sir." It had just slipped out. Confronted with a serious situation, she'd unintentionally reverted to Starfleet protocol in forms of address. When he continued to sit there frowning at her, she gestured toward the screen on her console. "It's important to the security of the empire."

Archer rose from his chair and strode up the stairs to the outer level of the bridge. A few more steps brought him to her side. "What is it?" he asked.

She pushed a button to play the embedded message. The Andorian voice came over the speakers at her station, while on a screen, her translation was printed in English: _Rendezvous complete; combined force will attack Imperial colony on schedule. Maximum military and significant civilian casualties projected._

"What the hell? This got by the UT?" Archer asked.

"No, it was never translated by the UT," Hoshi clarified. "It was hidden within what appeared to be a routine transmission by an Andorian freighter."

"Show me the time stamp on it," he ordered her.

Hoshi keyed in a command. In the corner of the screen, a time and date popped up. "This was picked up late last night," she said.

She waited as Archer looked at the screen. He was obviously deep in thought. When his eyes focused on her, there was the same granite hardness in them she'd seen when he had believed the Balantians were trying to blackmail the empire. "Can you trace this back to its point of origin?" he asked.

"I think so," she said, "but I'll need to use the main communications console."

"Do it," he ordered, jerking his head in that direction.

As Hoshi hurried over to the communications console, Mayweather trailing her, she heard Archer move down into the command well. The comm officer on duty vacated his seat at her approach. Even though she was intent on what she had to do, Hoshi didn't miss the venomous look the man gave her. She'd already infringed on his territory by translating alien transmissions better than he could; now she was usurping his place on the bridge. Archer apparently thought her skills at this were better than the officer she'd just replaced. With that realization, and with Mayweather at her back, she was able to ignore the disgruntled officer.

Her hands flying over the console as she tied in comm logs with scanner logs and analysis programs, she nevertheless was aware of Archer's steady regard. He'd sat in his chair again, chin up, fingers of one hand drumming on the armrest, almost as if he was waiting for her to fail. She also caught a glimpse of Reed at his station behind the captain. He was busily working his board, but she didn't miss the condescending smirk on his face. He thought she was going to fail too.

She couldn't fail. That would only weaken what little standing she had on this ship. But if she succeeded, she might ensure her safety by proving too valuable to harm, bodyguard or no bodyguard. Most of all, the last sentence of the message haunted her. No matter what she thought of the Terran Empire in this universe, some of its civilians were about to be targeted in a military operation. That was wrong in any universe.

As she worked, she learned more about the ship she was on. For one thing, its scanners were much more advanced and efficient than those she was used to working with, giving her readings for things farther away than her _Enterprise _would have been able to pick up. For an imperialistic, paranoid regime, that made sense. They'd want the earliest warning, or eavesdropping in this case, they could get. The analysis programs, on the other hand, weren't any bettter than her Starfleet's. And as she already knew, their UT was far behind what she was used to working with.

All that flashed through her mind as she set the process in motion to trace the transmission's signal. With the press of a key, a screen showing a map of the sector lit up on the comm console. A series of blinking orange circles bounced from site to site on the map -- communication relay buoys, Hoshi realized -- until one circle shone steady and settled in place.

"Got it!" she said, unable to keep the triumph from her voice.

"Put it onscreen," Archer said, motioning to the main viewscreen at the front of the bridge.

She transferred the graphic, and heard Archer suck in his breath. Behind him, Reed muttered a curse.

"You're sure that's right?" Archer asked her.

"Yes." In puzzlement, she looked at Archer. "What's wrong?"

He turned to her with an angry frown, stabbing a forefinger toward toward the main screen. "The transmission came from near the Canari system."

The name meant nothing to Hoshi. Without reference points, she didn't recognize the star chart on the screen, and as far as she knew, there wasn't a Canari system in her universe. Or if there was, she knew it by a different name.

"There's an Imperial colony not five light years away on Panmikar," Archer continued, his voice becoming louder as his ire mounted. "The Andorians have been whining about it ever since we took the planet away from the Vulcans. That has to be their target." He turned back to face the screen. "For all we know, the Andorians could have attacked it already."

He rapidly began issuing orders, the first of which was a course change for the endangered colony. Hoshi, consumed by a sense of deja vu that she hadn't experienced since before she'd regained her memory, accessed the ship's database for information on the sector.

Archer's anger made sense as she read what came up on the console's screen. She was able to deduce that Panmikar was known either as Paan Mokar or Weythan in her universe. Her Captain Archer had been called in to mediate a cease fire between the Vulcans and Andorians, both of whom had claimed the strategically located planet and had been fighting over it off and on for a hundred years. In this universe, the Vulcans had been terraforming Panmikar before the empire took it over. That sounded like the empire she was coming to know in this universe. Let someone else do all the work, then come in and reap the benefits.

A little more digging in the database revealed that the Andorians, subjects of the Terran Empire, had long resented human control of the sector. Two Andorian uprisings had been put down since the empire had taken over Panmikar. But both times, there had been only a military outpost on Panmikar; now, while there was still an Imperial military presence, there were more than five thousand civilians colonists -- all human.

Hoshi looked up at sector chart again. If the Andorians could take over Panmikar, she realized, Vulcan could be their next target. That could set a domino effect in motion, with the Andorians either seeking to wrest control of planets away from the empire or gain allies in their fight. No wonder Archer was so agitated. He may have stumbled onto the beginning of a new revolt.

Archer turned back to the comm console. "Send a coded message to Imperial Empire command."

Hoshi was reaching to make the connection when a rough push almost sent her tumbling off the chair. The displaced comm officer was back, staring fiercely down at her. She hastily got to her feet and backed out of his way.

She'd been so caught up in the moment that she'd forgotten she didn't belong at the comm station. She glanced at Archer, but he was issuing orders to the comm officer, not her. She wasn't sure he'd seen her rude treatment, or if he had, he was ignoring it. She meekly returned to her out-of-the-way station, where she went back to work on translations as the rest of the bridge crew began preparations for what most likely would be a hostile confrontation.

Surrounded by the bustling activity, Hoshi had never felt so alone in her life.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: As usual, thanks for the reviews! They are much appreciated.

CHAPTER 18

Archer hadn't forgotten about Sato. To the contrary, as he issued a flurry of orders to the bridge crew, he acknowledged to himself that she was turning out to be more valuable than he could ever have imagined. What he wouldn't give to have her on the bridge around the clock. Unfortunately, that wasn't feasible. She was, after all, human, and humans had to have breaks to sleep and eat. But he could bump her up to full-time status on the bridge. She could translate transmissions as they were picked up, instead of processing an entire day's worth each morning. There would be no more lounging around all afternoon in her quarters, at least until this crisis was past.

Archer's expression hardened as his gaze fell on the communications console, where Freeman was sending encrypted messages to Imperial fleet command and any fleet ships in the area. He had seen the officer shove Sato out of his chair. Archer hadn't reprimanded the man because, frankly, he had been occupied with more important things. If Sato were an Imperial fleet officer, Archer would have assigned her right then and there to take Freeman's place permanently as lead comm officer. As it was, Freeman might still be assigned to galley duty or scrubbing the plasma conduits if he failed to catch anything else of importance.

Satisfied that preparations were underway to make _Enterprise _ready to confront the Andorians, Archer resumed his seat in the command chair and watched his people work. The helmsman in front of him was trying to coax any extra speed out of the warp engine, and doing a good job at it; Tucker had already called the bridge to complain about the strain on the engine. T'Pol was taking readings with the long-range sensors, trying to pick up any information from the area around Panmikar, although it was going to be early the next day before they would be in range to pick up anything useful. Reed, his anticipation mounting at the prospect of a fight, was gleefully prepping the weapons systems, issuing almost as many orders to his armory staff as Archer had to the bridge crew.

A glance behind him at the auxiliary stations showed that Sato was again working on translations. The slight slump of her shoulders bothered him, though. She should be proud of what she'd just accomplished; instead, she was sitting there like a kicked puppy. Obviously the humans of her universe were too sensitive. She'd have to learn to be strong if she was going to survive in his.

Still, he needed to show her that he appreciated what she'd done, if only to encourage her to continue. He let his gaze roam one more time around the bridge. Everyone was hard at work. He got to his feet, climbed the two stairs to the upper level, and approached her. She didn't look up.

"Ms. Sato," he said.

She kept her gaze on the controls on her console, despite him standing right next to her. "Yes?"

"Hoshi," he said softly.

Now she did look up, mostly in surprise at his use of her first name, but there was something else there too. It wasn't the humiliation he'd expected to see caused by Freeman's treatment of her. No, it was more a vulnerability, an awareness that she was different from everyone else on the bridge. Well, of course she was different. Not that she was from a parallel universe so much, but that she'd done something no one else had managed. In doing so, she had given the empire -- and him -- the warning necessary to stop a war before it started. Didn't she realize that?

"Good work," he told her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up into a shy smile. "Thanks." Her gaze held his for a few moments, then faltered, and she looked back to her console. "I need to keep at this."

"That's exactly what I want you to do," Archer told her. "From now on, you have a full duty shift every day. I want you to go over the transmissions as we pick them up. I'll have Freeman route them to this station."

Sato blinked and looked up at him again.

"There's too much at stake to miss any more hidden transmissions, or have mistakes in translations," Archer told her. He looked over at Mayweather, who was standing a stride away. "Your orders have just changed to match her schedule, Corporal."

"Understood, sir," he responded crisply.

Archer looked down at Sato and gave her a nod of approval before moving back to his command chair.

* * *

Mayweather found his current duty interesting, although whether it would be a welcome change from his usual job was yet to be seen. He hadn't been on the bridge more than an hour before he'd almost had to act. That slimeball Reed was known to go after anything that was female, but Mayweather had thought he'd at least show a little tact around the captain's woman.

As far as the incident at the comm station, Mayweather knew when to leave well enough alone. His charge hadn't been in any physical danger. It was just Freeman venting his frustration at being bested. Competition was the lifeblood among those in the Imperial fleet. Too bad they didn't have the discipline instilled in combat troops like he did.

If Freeman had tried to follow up his shove with something potentially injurious, Mayweather would have of course stepped in. Still, he wished Sato had shown a little more spunk. She'd acquiesced without a fight. He wasn't used to that. The women aboard Imperial starships usually had more fortitude than what she'd shown.

Bodyguard duty, Mayweather thought dismally, might just turn out to be babysitting duty.

* * *

The Andorians were going to make a move against the Terran Empire. Not totally unexpected of the volatile blue-skinned species, T'Pol thought, but the possibility that they might target Vulcan after the Imperial colony gave her much to contemplate. Perhaps they would seek Vulcan as an ally.

Vulcans were a subject species of the Terran Empire, as were the Andorians. Vulcans, however, wouldn't act without the probability of success on their side. Andorians could behave rashly, without thinking out all the possible consequences.

If their aim was to overthrow the empire, she wished them the best. Throwing off the yoke of human oppression was an admirable aim. If they were successful, Vulcan could benefit. But if they failed, they might drag Vulcan down with them.

She looked across the bridge to where Sato sat under Mayweather's watchful eye. The petite human would now need all the protection she could get, despite her status as captain's woman. Between the humans like Freeman who resented her presence because she was more proficient than he was, the men like Reed who would desire her to satisfy his own base instincts, and the aliens on board who secretly wished that the Andorians would succeed and saw her as an obstacle to be eliminated, Sato's chances of survival had lessened considerably with her discovery of the embedded transmission.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Reed to confirm that his department was at readiness. Phase cannons, torpedo launchers, and hull plating were all on standby at maximum parameters. All that firepower under his fingertips was intoxicating. Too bad he had to wait until the captain ordered him to use it.

And use it he would. He was certain of that. The Andorians had long been a thorn in the side of the empire. He was going to relish taking them down a notch or more. Maybe they'd get lucky and get orders from command to exterminate them all.

Too bad his anticipated rendezvous with Sato was going to be put on hold. He could have found an excuse to leave the bridge that afternoon -- not that he would relinquish his bridge position when at any moment they might have a fight on their hands -- but he'd heard Archer tell Sato that she would be on the bridge the entire day. He had to agree with the captain; Sato's skills at translating and her expertise in covert communications shouldn't be wasted. Not now. Not when they had a chance to crush a revolt before it barely had begun.

Still, he could appreciate the view. She was seated to his left, about four meters away, facing the auxiliary console on the aft bulkhead. The new outfit she was wearing, emphasizing her feminine curves, was a welcome distraction. He couldn't wait to peel it off her.

There was the small matter that she didn't want his attention, but he knew how to handle her. He'd dealt with recalcitrant women before. The fact that she was the captain's woman would only prove to be a challenge. He'd had two of them before her, and neither time had Archer been any the wiser.

* * *

Hoshi could hardly believe it. The captain had actually thanked her, on the bridge in front of the crew, no less.

True, she had done an excellent job finding and then tracing the embedded transmission, but she'd performed similar tasks many times on her own _Enterprise_. The difference was that she was fully aware of her abilities, but the captain here wasn't. She'd been careful about what information she volunteered. She still felt like it was wrong to tell the people of this universe anything unless it was absolutely necessary.

But in this case, she'd had to say something. Her conscience wouldn't let her do anything else. Even in the confusing situtation in which she'd found herself, some things were crystal clear. Civilians were civilians no matter where they were, and if she could prevent them from becoming the first casualties in a conflict, she'd had to tell Archer what she'd found. The ghosts of seven million people killed in the unprovoked Xindi attack on her own world demanded that she do everything she could to prevent any unnecessary deaths from happening again.

She was finally able to settle down to her work after Archer had gone back to his command chair. She worked steadily for a time, then shuddered as a movement registered in her peripheral vision. Reed was busy at his console and seemed to have forgotten about her. The tactical officer, so similar in appearance to the one she knew, apparently had none of the civility or morality of his counterpart. For the time being, she was safe from him, the captain having unwittingly provided her with a way to avoid his unwanted attention. She would be on duty for the duration of alpha shift, with a break for lunch, she assumed. She seriously doubted Reed would bother her then, for she would be in the crowded mess with T'Pol, and with Mayweather watching over her. And when she was off duty for the day, she'd be ensconced in the captain's quarters where she didn't think Reed could reach her.

She looked over her shoulder at the main viewscreen, where the stars whipped by in elongated blurs typical at warp speed. Although she wasn't a wizard with higher mathematics, she'd been able to roughly calculate in her head that they would reach Panmikar sometime late the next day.

She didn't like going into battle. It didn't matter if it was here or in her universe. The knot of anxiety that formed in her stomach felt the same in both places.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Thanks, everyone, for the reviews. Much appreciated.

CHAPTER 19

Hoshi had planned to go to lunch with T'Pol like she usually did, but the Vulcan was glued to the science console, tweaking scanners and analyzing data, and showed no indication of leaving the bridge. Hoshi then decided she would skip lunch, if only to avoid Reed, who had left the bridge to go to the armory. It would be just her luck to go to the mess hall, sit down by herself, and find that Reed had been waiting for her.

She tried to ignore the growing rumbles from her empty stomach, but her bodyguard didn't. She almost jumped when Mayweather spoke directly to her for the first time.

"You better get something to eat, ma'am," he said in a low voice.

While she appreciated that he'd pitched his voice so that it wouldn't be overheard by the others on the bridge, she wished he'd mind his own business. "I'm not hungry," she whispered back.

Her stomach picked that moment to produce the loudest growl yet. Mayweather raised one eyebrow and waited.

"Oh, all right," she said, relenting under the weight of his amused stare.

She shut down her console. Archer had gone into his ready room some time ago, and the bridge crew was busy. She left unnoticed by anyone except for Mayweather, who followed her into the turbolift.

* * *

The mess hall was bustling. The noise level was louder than usual as personnel talked excitedly about the coming confrontation with the Andorians. Hoshi tried to block it out as she selected a sandwich and some chips from the food cabinets, but she couldn't help but hear some of the comments coming from nearby tables. They were all looking forward to battle with an eagerness that bordered on bloodlust.

She found a vacant table. No one in the mess hall seemed to be paying any attention to her as she sat down, except for Mayweather. He stood alertly a couple of paces away, his back to the windows. He apparently wasn't allowed to eat while on duty.

She had just taken a bite of her sandwich -- roast beef so dried out it looked like shoe leather -- when the mess hall doors opened to admit Tucker. He turned to survey the room after picking out his lunch from the food cabinets. Hoshi tried to shrink down, hoping to avoid his gaze, but Mayweather, standing straight and tall behind her, stood out like a beacon among the sea of seated diners. Tucker's eyes lit up when he saw her.

He made his way over and sat down at her table as if they were the best of friends. It was one similarity with his counterpart in Hoshi's universe that she had no trouble recognizing. Neither Tucker stood on ceremony.

"Guess T'Pol's too busy on the bridge to take a break for lunch today, huh?" he asked as he dug into his food, the meat loaf and mashed potatoes that seemed to be available at every lunch and dinner.

Hoshi didn't know what to say. Yes, she normally ate lunch with T'Pol, but Tucker usually wasn't around. How did he know? Then she remembered that the engineer had some sort of love-hate relationship going on with T'Pol, and he probably kept tabs on her. Almost a stalker, but not quite.

Hoshi became aware that, although he was eating, Tucker was watching her, waiting for an answer. "Uh, yes," she said. "That's right."

Tucker nodded. "We're pretty busy down in engineering too, so I can't stay long. Plus, I left Kelby in charge, and that man doesn't know his head from a hand spanner." He took a swig from his glass of water. "Not that we aren't ready for anything anytime, but you can't be too careful when you go up against the Andorians. They're tricky. But we'll whip 'em. We always do." His eyes glinted maliciously as he shoveled a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

Hoshi didn't know if Tucker was boasting or just trying to reassure her, but the undisguised hatred in his tone sickened her. She took another small bite of her sandwich, but it tasted like cardboard. She reached for her glass of juice to wash down the unappetizing morsel.

Tucker reached across the table to touch her hand as she grasped her glass. "You'll be okay. _Enterprise _has the best captain in the fleet."

He actually was trying to reassure her, Hoshi realized. She mustered a small smile. "I'm sure of it."

He grinned at her. "That's more like it. You can't go wrong with Jonathan Archer." He withdrew his hand and stabbed a piece of meat on his plate with his fork. "That's why I made sure I was on his ship."

Remembering her earlier vow to find out as much as she could about this universe, Hoshi asked, "Did you know the captain before you were assigned to _Enterprise_?"

"Only by reputation," Tucker said. "I went into engineering mainly because of his father's work on warp engines. Never got to meet him, though. Cochrane killed him before I was old enough to join the Imperial fleet."

"What?" Hoshi's exclamation slipped out before she could stop it. In her universe, Zefram Cochrane and Henry Archer had worked together on the warp five engine. But Henry Archer had died from Clarke's disease, not murder. "Why did Cochrane kill him?"

"I'm not really sure," Tucker said with a shrug. "Probably because Cochrane wanted all the credit for the new engine. But the captain made sure his father was avenged."

Hoshi was afraid she knew what had happened next, but she had to ask. "What did the captain do?"

"He made sure Cochrane had an accident. One of the fatal kind." Tucker chuckled around a mouthful of food. "It was never proven the captain was involved, though that's the scuttlebutt."

Hoshi had known that the people in this universe were cruel, but this surpassed what she'd believed possible. She thought she was going to throw up right there. She stared at her plate, fighting down nausea, as she was struck full force by the fact that she slept each night with only a door, and one she couldn't lock from her side, between her and a murderer.

"Hey! You okay?" Tucker asked.

She swallowed hard, forcing the nausea down. "Yes."

"Good." Tucker pushed his empty plate away and stood. "I need to get back to engineering. Tell T'Pol I missed seein' her." He walked away without a backward glance.

Hoshi pushed away her barely touched plate. In her present state of mind, eating was out of the question. She may as well go back to the bridge.

* * *

Hoshi's shift was almost finished when she caught another embedded transmission. Like the first, it was in Andorian and had been tacked onto what appeared to be a routine message. Unlike the first, it offered hope that they wouldn't be too late to prevent a massacre.

She turned to look at the bridge proper, but Captain Archer wasn't in the command chair. He could still be in his ready room, but he might have gone elsewhere while she was at lunch. Maybe she should ask T'Pol, who was still at her post at the science station.

She didn't want a repeat of this morning, however, when she'd been the center of attention. She loaded the translated message onto a data chip and got to her feet, intending to approach T'Pol at her station. She was almost there when a voice behind her made her spin around.

"Going somewhere, luv?"

Reed was standing not a meter away, having come up quietly behind her. He'd been on the bridge when she'd returned from lunch, but he'd been occupied at the tactical station and, to her relief, hadn't paid her the slightest heed. Or so she had thought. Hoshi sensed more than saw Mayweather moving closer. Steadied by the bodyguard's presence, she replied, "I've found something the captain should see." She held up the data chip.

Reed snatched the chip out of her hand. "Now would not be a good time to disturb him."

"You have no right--" she began, only to have him cut her off.

"As chief of security, I have every right to see any intercepted message that may have a bearing on our mission," he said. He glanced toward the ready room door, which Hoshi took as an indication that the captain was in there. "But maybe you should interrupt the captain. I'm sure you'll be in for a surprise."

Hoshi didn't understand. The information she'd found was important, and the captain had specifically asked her to find any coded messages. From the corner of her eye, she could see T'Pol observing them, but the Vulcan was making no move to intervene. Angered that Reed was once again looking at her as if she was a treat for his devouring, she grabbed the chip from his hand. As she turned away, she heard him mutter, "You'll be sorry."

Once again she'd become the focus of everyone on the bridge. There had been no avoiding it, not after her little clash with Reed. But she was in the right, she told herself. Wrapped in self-righteousness, she strode around the upper level of the bridge, past T'Pol, to the ready room door. She reached for the chime, hoping the captain answered immediately and that she didn't have to stand there, waiting, as the entire bridge crew watched.

There was no response to the chime. Hoshi fought the urge to look back at the others. Lifting her chin, she pushed the button and held it down. She didn't think the captain would have fallen asleep in there, but as she continued to hold the button down, she was beginning to wonder if perhaps there was some other exit from the ready room that she didn't know about. It would be entirely in keeping with the way things in this universe operated.

"Lay off the chime and get in here!" she finally heard Archer shout through the closed door.

With an exhalation of relief, Hoshi opened the door, crossed the threshold, and stopped dead in her tracks.

Archer was stepping away from his desk, zipping up his pants. Behind him, sliding off the desk and adjusting her uniform trousers, was a female member of the crew. Almost more shocking than finding the captain in flagrante delicto was the woman who was with him. She was was Elizabeth Cutler, one of Hoshi's friends on board her own _Enterprise_.

"I'll come back later!" Hoshi stuttered.

"No," Archer said sharply. "We're done here." He turned to the redhead. "On your way, crewman."

"Aye, sir," Cutler said, flushed and out of breath.

As Cutler brushed past Hoshi, Archer went to the window and, putting one hand on the frame, looked out. "This better be important," he said in a monotone.

Hoshi waited until the door closed behind Cutler. She now understood Reed's cryptic comment about being sorry. Well, if Archer wanted to have sexual relations, she'd just as soon it didn't involve her. She delicately cleared her throat as she regained her mental equilibrium. "I've found another embedded transmission."

Archer turned quickly from the window to face her, a look of expectation tempered by concern on his face.

She held up the chip. "It was in with another routine transmission from the same Andorian freighter as the first one."

"What did it say?" he asked.

A small smile crossed her face. "'Holding position until chancellor's ship arrives.'"

Archer looked off into the distance as he considered the message. "They're waiting for the Andorian chancellor. Shran must want to direct the attack himself."

Hoshi's eyes all but bugged out. She'd thought seeing Cutler with the captain had been a surprise, but it was just one big shock after another today. Shran was the Andorian chancellor here?

At her startled expression, Archer asked, "What?"

Hoshi shook her head, a small, almost hysterical laugh escaping her. "There's a Shran in my universe too, but he's not a chancellor. He's an Imperial Guard commander."

Archer's eyes narrowed. "Imperial?"

"Not Terran Empire Imperial," she clarified. "He's a commander in the Andorian Imperial Guard... Oh, never mind."

Archer stared at her a moment. "You're absolutely sure that's what the message said."

"Yes."

Archer paced toward the door, thinking, then turned back to pace a few more steps. "We now know that we can reach Panmikar before the attack force, sinced they've delayed to wait for their chancellor." He turned again, took a few more steps, and stopped. "But that would put us in a defensive position." He frowned, not happy with that option, before retracing his steps. "Or we could change course and intercept the attack force. We don't know how many or what type of ships they have, but we'd engage them away from Panmikar, sparing the colony any damage." He turned to face her, his arms swinging at his sides from the force of his strides. "Or we could cut off the head of the snake, and end this revolt before it gets started."

Archer had made his decision. She could see it in his eyes. He was going to intercept Shran's ship and engage it in battle.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Posting this chapter early because the time change here is going to mess up my morning tomorrow. Thanks for the reviews! I'm still writing as fast as I can on this story.

CHAPTER 20

Archer strode out of the ready room, Sato at his heels, and headed for the situation table at the back of the bridge. "Reed, T'Pol. Get over here," he ordered.

As his two officers made their way across the bridge, Archer glanced at Sato. She appeared to have recovered from the surprise of finding him intimately involved with another woman. Not that he cared, but it wouldn't have hurt his ego see a little bit of jealousy on her face. He'd installed her as his captain's woman, after all, even though he hadn't taken advantage of it. Quite the opposite. He thought he'd shown admirable restraint, especially now. He always became aroused at the prospect of battle.

Really, Sato ought to be grateful since he'd taken into account that she apparently had no interest in him on an intimate level. That's why he'd retreated to his ready room this morning and, ultimately, summoned Cutler. If he'd stayed on the bridge, constantly aware of Sato's presence, her wishes wouldn't have mattered a whit if he had decided it was time she was more than a captain's woman in name only.

But he had dismissed that idea for a number of reasons. First, she was much too valuable on the bridge to waste her time satisfying his personal needs. He'd been proven correct, of course. She'd come across another hidden transmission while he'd been occupied with Cutler.

Second, Sato had to be the least suited of any of those who had been his captain's woman. He also suspected that she might be a person who, once intimacies started, would expect things in return. He had an idea that she would ask to be returned to her own universe, which he wasn't about to do. And even if she didn't harp on that, the entangling intricacies that grew out of an intimate relationship wouldn't do anything but hamper his career. There were more than enough other women on board who appreciated, even craved, his attention when he needed it.

And finally, he didn't want to give Sato any reason not to trust him. He could imagine how a translator could twist things around in an effort to get back at him.

All those thoughts faded from his mind as he viewed the sector displayed on the situation table's screen. He quickly filled in Reed and T'Pol about the message Sato had uncovered, and what he had decided to do about it.

"The Andorians are waiting for their chancellor before they start the attack," Archer said. "But I've decided he's not going to get there."

"We're going after Shran?" Reed asked. "Do we know where he is?"

Archer looked at Sato. "Trace that transmission. Find out where the attack force is holding position. From that, we can probably figure out the route Shran is taking from Andoria."

"Use my station," T'Pol told Sato. "I've tied in the necessary programming from the communications console. Combined with the long-range sensors, we should be able to determine the projected course of Shran's ship." She looked to Archer. "With your permission, of course, sir."

"Get to it," Archer said.

Sato followed T'Pol to the science station. Mayweather, who had been standing outside the ready room, moved over to a position next to the science station. Despite having just been sated, Archer admired the view as Sato walked away. _Enough of that_, he told himself roughly. This was exactly the type of situation that had led him to decide not to become involved with her other than on a work level. She was a distraction he didn't need, especially since the next twenty-four hours could provide the biggest boost to his career since he'd been promoted to captain.

He looked back at the situation table, where the results of T'Pol and Sato's work would be displayed as soon as they correlated all the data.

Next to him, Reed snickered. "She didn't take it very well, I assume," Reed said.

Archer knew what he was talking about. He wouldn't be surprised if Reed had tricked Sato into ringing the chime to his ready room. It was in keeping with the man's twisted nature. "Actually, she took it remarkably well," he said, adding in a frosty tone, "not that it's any of your business."

Instead of appearing chastised, Reed actually smiled. "I was thinking more along the lines that Crewman Cutler might need some comforting, seeing as how the captain's woman barged in on her."

Archer wasn't fooled. Reed wouldn't openly hint to him that he was interested in Sato. "If Crewman Cutler will have you, be my guest, Mister Reed. But there are more than twenty-five women on board you can amuse yourself with."

Reed smirked. "I daresay I've 'amused' myself with almost every one of them. Can you blame me for wanting a perfect record?"

Reed boasting of his sexual prowess in front of him was going too far. Archer glared down at the shorter man, and was gratified to see the blood drain from Reed's complexion. The man realized he'd overstepped his bounds. Fortunately for Reed, the situation table lit up with new graphics at that moment, else Archer might have openly reprimanded him in front of everyone on the bridge. That was not something that would sit well with the tactical officer, who often relied on his ability to intimidate others.

On the situation table's screen, a yellow line representing the projected course of Shran's ship was winding its way from Andoria to a point a couple of light years from Panmikar, where a large blinking orange circle indicated the waiting Andorian fleet. As T'Pol and Sato rejoined them, Archer asked, "What about our other ships in this sector? Where are they?"

Reed entered several commands in the tabletop keyboard. Red circles popped onto the screen at various locations. All were much farther away from Panmikar than _Enterprise_, but they were even farther away from the projected course of the Andorian chancellor's ship. "Four fleet ships are on their way to assist us," Reed supplied.

"Who's the ranking captain of those fleet ships?" Archer asked.

"After yourself," T'Pol answered, "Captain Erika Hernandez."

Archer nodded, more to himself than in confirmation of T'Pol's answer. Hernandez was good. Not many women rose to the rank of captain in the Terran Imperial Fleet. The few who did had more determination than most men. In his opinion, having worked with her several times in the past, Hernandez was better than most of her male peers.

Even in his absorption with the topic at hand, he didn't miss Sato start at the mention of Hernandez's name. No doubt Hernandez was yet another person who had a doppleganger in Sato's universe.

"Send a coded message to all Imperial ships, but make it clear that Hernandez is in charge," Archer told T'Pol. "Their orders are to take up position near Panmikar, set up an ambush, and catch the Andorians unaware. But that may not be necessary. I'm betting they'll turn tail and run if Shran's out of the picture." He paused to look at T'Pol. "Best idea of where we can intercept Shran's vessel?"

"After tracing the origin of the embedded transmission and determining the most direct route to that point from Andoria--" T'Pol paused to push a button on the tabletop. She pointed to a new blinking orange circle along the yellow line. "--we should be able to intercept the Andorian chancellor's ship near the Falini system, provided we maintain warp four-point-five."

"Very good," Archer said. "Transfer the coordinates to the helm and set a course immediately."

As Reed and T'Pol went back to their stations, Archer looked at Sato again. She looked shell-shocked. Too many surprises in too short a time, he decided. At least she hadn't totally freaked out. She'd managed to hold it together. Once again, he was impressed by her resilience, the underlying steel that her delicate features disguised.

If his plan worked, she was going to need that strength tomorrow.

"I should get back to work," she said, restless under his scrutiny.

Archer shook his head. "You've done enough for today." He turned to the communications station. "Send any more transmissions we intercept to my quarters as soon as you get them."

A murmured affirmative came from Freeman, accompanied by a glare for Sato, as Archer turned away. With a wave of his arm, Archer indicated she should preceed him to the turbolift. When its door slid open, Archer turned to the ever-present but silent Mayweather and held up his hand to keep him from following them into the lift. "You're dismissed for the day," he told him.

Archer stepped into the lift alone with Sato, who was avoiding his gaze. They rode the short distance in silence. He was both amused and irritated by her obvious discomfort, but in the end, his admiration of her skills made those feelings irrelevant.

"You did good work today," he told her as they stepped out of the turbolift.

"Thanks," she said in a small voice.

He studied her face as they walked down the corridor. It was probably best that he'd pulled her off the bridge even though, technically, alpha shift wasn't over. However, he seriously doubted there would be any more clandestine transmissions. If the Andorians were smart, they'd maintain communications silence until the attack got underway.

He opened his cabin door, allowing Sato to enter first. She was almost bowled over by Dart, who in his enthusiasm at their return, jumped up against her, his stumpy tail wagging furiously.

"Get down, Dart!" Sato said with a laugh as she tried to fend him off. The dog didn't obey. He continued to lick at her face. She switched to German, commanding "Sitzen Sie!" Dart immediately sat.

Sato, still chuckling, wiped her damp face with the back of her hand.

That was more like it, Archer thought. She needed to relax. He needed her to relax, because tomorrow, she was going to serve as his translator with Shran. And it was going to take all of her finesse with words to capture Shran -- not kill him, as was expected under Imperial protocol.

* * *

Hoshi's somber spirits were lifted by Dart's enthusiastic greeting. One thing about dogs -- they were unconditionally happy to see you when you got home, no matter which universe you were in.

Her better mood didn't last long, however; she'd learned a lot of things today about this universe that were too disturbing. If anything, the revelations only emphasized that this was not her home, and she couldn't allow herself to start thinking of it that way. If she did, she might never find a way back. The impending Andorian attack on a human colony prevented her from being able to do anything about it for the time being, unfortunately; she didn't think it wise to ask Archer about it while he was concentrating on the upcoming confrontation.

"I'll have Cunningham bring us something to eat," Archer said, striding past her to the desk.

It looked like she was in for another dull evening of sitting around with nothing to do while Archer read reports or did paperwork, except that this evening there was the spectre of battle hanging over her. She surreptitiously watched Archer, so like the man she admired in her universe in appearance and yet totally different inside, as he settled in front of the computer and became engrossed in the information scrolling across the screen.

Now, with time on her hands, she couldn't avoid thinking about the most frightening thing she'd found out today. This Captain Archer was capable of cold-blooded murder. She hadn't really had a chance to think much about it after Tucker had told her. Too many other surprises had kept coming at her, one after the other. She felt like a leaf on a rushing stream, with no control over her direction, completely at the mercy of the current. The best she could do was hang on for the ride and hope for a smoother stretch to come along.

Hoshi tried to reassure herself that Tucker had qualified his comments by saying that it hadn't been proven that Archer had murdered Cochrane. She didn't know what to believe, short of asking Archer himself about it. Even if he denied killing Cochrane in revenge for his father's death, Hoshi wasn't sure she would believe him. This Archer was entirely capable of lying convincingly. Then there was the matter of his temper. She could imagine his reaction if he didn't want to talk about the subject. And finally, she didn't want him to think that she was afraid of him.

"I'm going to freshen up before dinner," Hoshi said, making her way to the connecting door between their cabins.

Archer, lifting a hand to signify that he'd heard her, didn't look up from his work.

She entered her cabin, closing the door behind her, and went into the bathroom. She splashed water on her face at the sink, then stood gazing at her reflection in the mirror. She remembered doing the same thing before she'd recovered her memory. Now, she wondered if it wouldn't have been a blessing if her memory hadn't returned. She could have been blissfully ignorant, taking what she encountered in this universe for granted, instead of constantly comparing it to her universe and finding this one lacking. Depressing -- and scary -- didn't come close to describing her circumstances.

With a sigh, she turned away from the mirror. Cunningham should be along with their meals soon. She considered changing into something other than the teal outfit she'd worn today, then decided against it. The only other items of clothing she'd even consider wearing were the new lavender jumpsuit or her own uniform. As for the rest of what was in her closet, those clothes could rot for all she cared, especially after what she'd seen this afternoon in Archer's ready room.

Thinking about the incident brought a blush to her cheeks. Damn this universe's Lieutenant Reed! He'd goaded her into interrupting the captain and Cutler. In the end, however, it was probably a good thing. She'd been worried that Archer would, sooner or later, want her to share his bed. He had placed her in the cabin adjoining his, and she'd have to be dumber than a box of rocks not to realize what type of woman was supposed to be in residence here.

Admittedly, a small part of her had wondered why Archer hadn't tried anything like that with her, especially since she'd woken up in his bed shortly after arriving in this universe. Now she knew why. She'd walked in on one tryst. Who knew how many others he'd had since she arrived in this universe? He didn't need her for that.

Now that she thought about it, though, it hadn't looked like Cutler had particularly enjoyed what she'd been doing. Hoshi had the impression that a request for something like that from the captain wasn't something to be turned down. For all she knew, he may have ordered Cutler to do it. In that case, she was glad she wasn't a member of the Terran Imperial military, else she'd have to disobey orders.

At the same time, her relief that he had an outlet for his personal desires was tempered by anxiety. There had to be a reason he'd put her in his paramour's quarters but hadn't wanted her that way. What if he changed his mind?

She opened the door between their quarters, determined that, once the battle with the Andorians was finished, she would do everything she could to get back to where she belonged -- whether she had this Captain Archer's approval or not.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

Sleep eluded Hoshi that night. Bleary-eyed and tense the next morning, she dressed in her old uniform. As with the Balantian meeting, she felt a need to distance herself from the empire, especially since it felt like she was slowly but surely being sucked into this universe's machinations. Her uniform should help remind her of who she really was.

She had a quick breakfast with Archer in his cabin. He was too focused to notice her choice of attire, or if he did, he didn't comment on it. He was preoccupied with the challenge of defeating Chancellor Shran.

The feeling of having no control over what was happening to her intensified when she arrived on the bridge. Her auxiliary station, she found, had been tied directly to communications. She was, in effect, double-checking everything that came through the main comm console. There was nothing she could do about the resentment she could practically feel coming from Freeman, the comm officer. She couldn't help it that she was better at the job than Freeman was and that Captain Archer was taking advantage of it. The reassuring presence of Mayweather, covering her back, allowed her to resist the urge to look over her shoulder at Freeman.

She had been at her station several hours when T'Pol spoke from the science station. "Long-range sensors have picked up a ship on course for the Andorian fleet. It matches specs for a heavy Andorian cruiser."

Archer rose from his chair in the command well. "That's got to be Shran." He looked at Freeman, who was monitoring the communications frequencies.

The officer shook his head. "No subspace traffic."

"No indication that they are aware we're here," Reed put in from tactical.

"Tell Colonel Hawthorne to have a boarding party ready," Archer told Reed, then retook his seat. "Helm, put us on a direct intercept course for the Andorian ship. Warp five."

An affirmative came from the helm console in front of Archer. Silence, thick with anticipation, settled on the bridge as Enterprise altered course and leaped forward even faster.

A minute later, T'Pol reported, "The Andorians must have detected us. They have altered course."

"Are they trying to run for it?" Archer asked.

"I don't believe so," T'Pol responded. "Their new heading seems to be an effort to provide them with the best angle of defense. They must know they can't outrun an Imperial starship."

"Open a hailing frequency," Archer instructed Freeman. "I want to talk to Shran."

The officer pushed a few buttons and nodded at Archer. Before Archer could speak, however, a horrendous screech of feedback filled the bridge.

Archer winced and jumped to his feet. "Shut that off!" he shouted.

Freeman, his face a ruddy hue, was already throwing switches and hitting buttons, but the noise continued unabated. Hoshi, hands over her ears, knew what the problem was. It had to be a feedback loop created by tying her console in with communications. Freeman, however, didn't seem to know what to do as he frantically pushed buttons.

Hoshi couldn't do anything from her station; it had to be fixed at Freeman's. Trying to yell over the noise would be fruitless, so she got to her feet and rushed around the upper level of the bridge. At the comm station, she pulled Freeman, chair and all, out of her way and slapped two buttons, one after the other, to cut the connection to her auxiliary console. The noise immediately ceased. As a precaution, she also switched off the open channel to Shran's ship.

Despite the ringing in her ears, she heard the sounds of a scuffle behind her. She turned to see Mayweather with an arm around Freeman's neck, holding him in place. The comm officer must have been about to retaliate against her impetuous action, but as far as she could tell, Freeman was the only one mad at her. Even Archer seemed relieved, although he was glaring at Freeman struggling in Mayweather's grasp.

"You're confined to quarters until further notice," Archer told the comm officer.

Freeman stopped fighting Mayweather, who a moment later released his hold. Panting with rage, Freeman glared at Sato.

"Get off the bridge," Archer ordered. "Now!"

Freeman fliched as if struck, but he obeyed. He turned and quickly went to the turbolift. As he entered, Archer said to Sato, "Take over at communications."

Hoshi hadn't meant to take over Freeman's post. She'd only wanted the noise to stop. Eyes wide, realizing that her own actions had put her in thick of things, she nodded at Archer. In all her time in this universe, she'd never once thought she'd be doing what she did on her _Enterprise_, mainly because she didn't belong here. There was nothing to do but go along with it for the moment. If nothing else, because she was the best communications officer and linguist on this ship, she might be able to hasten the resolution of the Andorian situation, and in so doing, be able to work toward resolving her own problem. If Archer was successful, he might be agreeable to finding a way to send her home. If he failed, there would be no talking to him about it.

As Archer retook his seat, she asked him, "Should I reopen the hailing frequency?"

He nodded curtly, his jaw muscles working tautly. She could see he was still angry about the feedback. The incident had interrupted the flow of the moment, and he'd had to regain his mental footing.

Hoshi pushed the appropriate buttons and said, "The channel is open."

A small dot on the main viewscreen was growing larger. That had to be Shran's ship, Hoshi realized. In this universe, humans must have faster ships to be able to overtake an Andorian military vessel. Or, if the Shran of this universe was as arrogant as the one with whom she was acquainted, he was confident in his abilities to defend himself against a human ship.

Archer drew a deep breath. "Chancellor Shran! This is Captain Jonathan Archer of the Terran Imperial starship _Enterprise_. Drop out of warp and prepare to be boarded."

Hoshi checked the console. When Archer looked in her direction, she shook her head. "They're receiving us. They just aren't answering."

Archer growled. "Shran! Talk to me! Or are you going to make me chase you halfway across the galaxy?"

A hiss of static preceeded a familiar voice over the bridge speaker. "Archer, you poor excuse for a sentient being! I should have known it was you."

The insult which would have hardly caused her Captain Archer to blink made this one turn a livid shade of red. Derogatory remarks from a perceived lesser species didn't sit well with the humans of this universe, apparently, for she noticed the displeased expressions of other humans on the bridge.

"I know what you're up to, Shran," Archer said. "Give up now and I'll go easy on you."

The silence that followed that statement dragged out so long that Hoshi checked to make sure the channel was still open.

Finally, Shran's mocking voice returned. "Easy? Like you were 'easy' on Ambassador Gral?"

Archer didn't reply. Hoshi could see him trying to hold in his temper. She wanted to know what had happened to Ambassador Gral, but now was not the time to ask. In her universe, Gral was a typically cantankerous Tellarite who had eventually sat down with Shran and, under her Captain Archer's mediation, negotiated terms in a trade dispute. After what she'd found out yesterday, however, she wouldn't be surprised if this Archer had had Gral executed.

"He gave me no choice. For your sake, I want to avoid that," Archer replied. "But you've got to work with me."

"Why am I so important to you?" Shran asked. Hoshi could tell the Andorian was curious, despite his disdain of Archer that came through loud and clear.

Archer, a grim smile on his face, looked like he'd just hooked a big fish. Maybe he had, Hoshi thought. Instead of arguing, Shran was asking for more information.

"Because I will spare you, and your people, a terrible loss."

This was followed by another long silence on Shran's part. Archer seemed content to wait. He gestured at Hoshi to mute the connection on her end. When she had, he turned to Reed behind him.

"They're still maintaining course and speed," the tactical officer reported, adding with a sneer, "but there's no indication they've powered up weapons."

"Shran knows we have him outgunned," Archer said, and swivelled back to face the viewscreen just as Hoshi's console indicated activity on the channel. It was Shran again.

"What loss might that be?" Shran asked.

Archer motioned that Hoshi should open the channel on their end. He crossed his legs and settled comfortably in his chair. He was enjoying this cat-and-mouse game. "We know about your attack force heading for Panmikar. Imperial starships are in position to destroy them the moment they enter that system. Think of all the Andorian lives that will be lost. That won't go over well with your constituency at home, Shran. An attack on an Imperial world that you instigated, that didn't succeed--" Archer leaned forward as his voice became more impassioned. "--that wound up bringing the entire might of the Terran Empire down on your world. Your people will be exterminated like the vermin they are!"

A muted curse in Andorian that Hoshi had no trouble translating came from the bridge speaker. Then, "What do you want?"

Archer laughed. "You know what I want. Drop out of warp." He glanced expectantly at T'Pol.

"They've dropped out of warp," she confirmed a few moments later.

"Helm, bring us alongside." Archer swivelled in his chair to look at Reed. "Inform Colonel Hawthorne to have his men ready at the docking port airlock."

As Reed complied, Archer swung back around to look at the viewscreen. After a moment or two of contemplation, he turned back to Reed. "And tell him I will be joining the boarding party, along with my translator."

Hoshi stared at Archer, who was now looking smugly at her. She didn't understand why he wanted her to go with him. As in her own universe, this Shran spoke perfect English. She wasn't needed to assist with translation in a face-to-face meeting.

All she was sure of was that she was about to jump from the frying pan into the fire.

A/N: Time to put your seat belts on. The next few chapters will be a bumpy ride.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Here we go! Thank you for the nice reviews, too.

CHAPTER 22

A crowd of Imperial soldiers stood poised to enter the airlock at Archer's command. As far as Hoshi could tell, the boarding party was under Hawthorne's direction, but he was deferring to Archer. She'd already come to the conclusion that, although Archer surrounded himself with capable people, he was a control freak. It must be the sense of power, or the potential glory, that made him want to be at the forefront.

Shran could have just as easily come to him. She was surprised Archer hadn't insisted upon it. Such a demand would have been in keeping with the way the empire treated subject species. Archer's decision to include himself in a boarding party was, to her way of thinking, quite reckless. He could be injured or killed on the Andorian ship. But in his mind, she was sure, the benefits outweighed the dangers.

If something did go wrong and Archer was suddenly out of the picture, she had no idea what would happen to her. With a start, she realized she had no idea who was the first officer aboard Archer's ship. Back home, it was T'Pol. Here, that was highly unlikely, as Vulcans were subservient to humans, although Archer had left her in charge of the bridge in his absence. Maybe Tucker was first officer. He was of a suitable rank, although his engineering duties often prevented him from being on the bridge. It would be just her luck, however, that someone like Reed would be in charge if Archer was incapacitated or killed.

Her attention was drawn back to the moment as a muted thump of metal mating with metal came through the door, and the airlock indicator light turned green. The door slid open. The soldiers rushed into the airlock but had to pause in their advance as, on the other side, the door of the Andorian ship rumbled open more slowly.

During those few seconds, Hoshi had a premonition. Something bad was going to happen. She just knew it. She braced herself, believing it entirely possible that Shran's ship would suddenly go to warp and break the airlock apart, casting soldiers, Archer, and herself into the cold embrace of space.

But no such thing happened. The soldiers entered the Andorian ship unimpeded. Archer then swaggered through the airlock as if he was taking a leisurely walk. Hoshi wished she could put up as brave a front as well, but her heart was beating so rapidly she thought it would explode. She might have balked at entering the airlock except for the ever-present Mayweather behind her. Archer had specifically ordered him to look after her safety.

Stepping across the threshold into the Andorian ship, Hoshi saw that the soldiers had taken up positions along a dimly lit corridor leading from the airlock, with Hawthorne close to the entrance. Although she had thought she was becoming numb to constant surprises, the sight of the lone blue-skinned Andorian waiting for them almost made her gasp out loud. In her universe, the person waiting for them had died from a phase pulse infection after being shot by one of Gral's assistants. In this universe, however, Talas was alive and well and, to judge by the sour look on her face, none too pleased.

Archer wasn't pleased, either. "Where's Shran?" he demanded.

Talas took her time replying, her antennae waving languidly, as she glanced down the corridor as if counting the number of soldiers, then back at Archer. "Your escort does you honor," she said, but her scornful expression indicated what she thought of someone who had to have such a large armed escort. "He awaits your convenience, Captain Archer. If you will follow me?" Talas turned on her heel and walked away.

Archer had no choice but to follow, and that meant Hoshi and Mayweather had to follow him. Two of the soldiers, rifles at the ready, fell in line behind them. As Talas turned a corner several strides ahead, Archer leaned toward Hoshi and said, "If they say anything in Andorian that is important, I want you to tell me immediately. I don't care if they know that you're translating."

Hoshi nodded that she understood. This was getting weirder by the moment.

They rounded the corner to see Talas waiting for them in front of a set of double doors. Bold inscriptions in Andorian stood out on the panels. Hoshi had no trouble making out what they said: "Andoria Before All" and "Death Before Dishonor." The latter made her wonder if Shran was using a Klingon ship, but then she remembered T'Pol saying the ship's specs matched those of an Andorian heavy cruiser. All the same, if the inscriptions were in keeping with the Andorians of this universe, they would be just as belligerent and difficult to get along with as those she knew.

At their approach, Talas pushed a button on a keypad outside the doors. They immediately split apart, sliding into the bulkheads on either side, to reveal a spacious compartment. Rich, dark wood furnishings filled the room, and vibrant tapestries adorned the bulkheads, but the focal center was a large, ostentatious desk in front of two massive windows. Directly above the desk was a piece of metal fashioned to look like a giant Ushaan Tor, the curved ice blade used by Andorian miners, its downward-pointing prongs gleaming menacingly.

Seated at the desk was this universe's Shran. He remained seated as Archer and Hoshi came to a stop in front of the desk. As with all the previous times she'd encountered people who had counterparts in her universe, this Shran looked exactly like his. The only difference she could see was that he was wearing an electric blue tunic with a gold sash draped over one shoulder, trappings of his position as chancellor, instead of a military uniform. He glanced in seeming indifference at the two human soliders who had positioned themselves inside the room on either side of the door and at Mayweather several paces behind Hoshi before he addressed Archer.

"You're looking well, pinkskin," Shran said with a smarmy smile. "Perhaps better than the last time we met."

Hoshi would have given a lot to know what had happened the last time the two men had met, for Archer was scowling. Shran apparently knew how to irritate Archer, just like he did in her universe. Given that humans were the dominant force in this universe, however, she thought Shran would have shown a little respect.

"Cut the crap," Archer said. "Call off your invasion force. You've already taken this farther than you should have."

Shran rolled his eyes. "But we agreed--"

"Now!" Archer thundered.

Hoshi was bewildered. From the conversation, it almost seemed like Archer knew in advance that the Andorians were going to attack Panmikar. But that couldn't be possible -- could it?

Shran was staring at Archer, the previous humor in his eyes replaced by something harder. "As you wish," he conceded. He looked levelly at Talas. "Send a message to the commander of the attack force to stand down."

Hoshi let out a long silent breath at his words. She wasn't sure what Archer would do next, but he had to be pleased that the attack on Panmikar had been averted, and that Imperial ships wouldn't have to engage in combat. As with almost every armed conflict, casualties weren't limited to one side. The Andorians wouldn't have been the only ones to lose lives.

Talas walked over to a free-standing console near the windows. Hoshi heard faint clicks and beeps as the Andorian officer opened a channel. Her earlier premonition returned with a vengeance. Something was wrong, but she didn't know what it was.

Then it hit her. Talas, if she was typical of Andorians in Hoshi's universe, should be practically vibrating with outrage, especially since a human was ordering her leader around. But the woman's antennae weren't straight up with anger, but somewhat curled, indicating suppressed excitement, and her arm and hand motions were smooth, not sharp and jerky. To Hoshi, she appeared eager to send the message, not resentful, as was to be expected. As Hoshi had tried to tell Archer before the Balantian mission, there was more to language than mere words, and right now, Talas's body language was not speaking the way it should in response to what Shran had just ordered her to do.

She strained to hear as Talas started speaking in Andorian into the audio pickup.

The relief that had flooded Hoshi when Shran had agreed to call off his forces vanished with Talas's first few words.

"She's telling them to begin the attack!" Hoshi blurted out.

Talas continued speaking, more hurriedly, leaning closer to the console's pickup.

A phase rifle blast came from one of the soldiers behind Hoshi. Talas fell to the floor, blue blood oozing from a wound in the middle of her back. Beside Hoshi, Archer had his phase pistol out of its holster and aimed squarely at Shran still seated at the desk.

Shran, for his part, had both his hands on the desktop in plain sight. The stillness of his body belied the agitation in his eyes.

"You double-crossed me!" Archer said.

Shran managed a shrug. "You would have done the same to me. In fact, this pompous little visit is part of your double-cross, I believe."

Archer took a step closer, the gun still aimed at Shran. Hoshi noticed that Archer's hand was shaking, most likely with rage. But it could be with surprise. He and Shran had made some sort of deal that she didn't know about, and Shran had reneged on that deal.

"I should shoot you right now and get it over with, but that will only make things worse," Archer said through gritted teeth. "Get up! You're coming with me."

Shran slowly got to his feet. The fingertips of one hand brushed across the desk as he came around the side. Hoshi was looking at him when it happened. His index finger put pressure on the desktop, causing a small square section underneath his fingertip to give way.

Hoshi's eyes went wide as she realized what Shran had done. "He pushed a hidden button!" she said.

A flash of bright light blinded her. She felt herself thrown violently through the air to the accompaniment of a loud crackling sound that hurt her ears.

And then she didn't feel or see anything else.


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Everything was dark when Hoshi, sprawled on her stomach on the hard floor, opened her eyes. A raspiness in her throat made her cough, which in turn made her head hurt. Her first reaction was not fright, but indignation. She'd just gotten over one bump on the head. She didn't need another one.

At least she still had her memory this time. She knew exactly what had happened. Shran had triggered some sort of explosive device. The force of it had blown her across the room, and she had been knocked out when her head hit something hard. Squinting into the darkness, she pushed herself to a sitting position.

"Easy, ma'am," came a deep voice, along with a helping hand on her arm.

"Thanks," she told Mayweather. "Are you hurt?"

"No, ma'am."

"We're still in the chancellor's room on the Andorian ship?" she asked, trying to get her bearings.

"Yes, ma'am," Mayweather replied.

Strong and silent was all well and good, but Mayweather's two-word answers were getting on what was left of her nerves. The man never volunteered any information. It was like trying to pull teeth to get him to talk. The Travis of her universe could be annoyingly verbose at times, but she'd never thought she'd miss him because of it. "How long was I out?" she asked.

"A minute or two," he said.

Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness. In addition to the starlight filtering in through the windows, there was some sort of dim emergency lighting. The blast must have been extremely localized, or at least directional, for she could see that the windows were still intact. If they hadn't been, she would be dead, floating around in space, instead of having this one-sided conversation with Mayweather. As she began to make out objects, she saw that she'd been tossed halfway across the room in the direction of the double entry doors. With Mayweather's assistance, she got to her feet.

"Where's Captain Archer?" she asked him.

When Mayweather didn't answer right away, she caught what she thought was a flicker of emotion on his face. It was hard to tell, since the lighting was poor and she couldn't see his dark features well. He was also wearing some sort of goggles, probably the low-light, vision-enhancing variety -- and where exactly had he kept those tucked away on his snug uniform? -- which hid his eyes. But despite all that, she could see a tightness around his lips that showed his usual confidence had been badly shaken.

"I'll show you," he said.

He led her over to where one of the tapestries was crumpled on the floor. Archer was lying on his back on the other side of the mound of fabric. A cut on his forehead was bleeding profusely, but that was of little consequence, for such wounds had a tendency to bleed a lot. No, what was worrying was the large piece of splintered wood protruding from his left side.

"Is he--?" she started, but broke off when her voice cracked.

"I don't know," Mayweather responded. "I didn't check. My orders were to stick with you, ma'am."

Hoshi dropped to her knees beside Archer. A quick inspection revealed that he was breathing, so she took a closer look at his injured side. There was very little blood oozing out around the piece of wooden shrapnel, but she knew enough first aid to know that the worst thing she could do was try to remove it. If she did, he might bleed to death in a matter of minutes.

With Mayweather's help, she quickly tore a sleeve from her uniform and held it against Archer's head wound. He had been between her and the desk when it had exploded, and had taken the brunt of the blast that had thrown her across the room. The object in his side must be a piece of Shran's huge wood desk.

Keeping pressure on the makeshift pad on Archer's head, she took a longer look around the room. The desk was no longer recognizable. Pieces of it, all with wicked-looking splintered ends, littered the compartment. Most were on the floor, but some were caught up where they'd sliced into the tapestries. Over by the communications console, Talas's body, undisturbed by the blast, lie were it had fallen earlier.

Hoshi twisted around to look toward the doors. One of the soldiers who had accompanied them was unmoving on the floor; she hoped he was only unconscious and not dead. The other was awkwardly trying to bandage his own arm.

There was one person missing. "Where's Shran?" Hoshi asked.

"There," Mayweather said, pointing upward.

She gazed at the overhead bulkhead and immediately wished she hadn't. Shran's body was impaled on the giant Ushaan Tor replica that hung over the place where his desk used to be.

She'd only just met this Shran, but he'd seemed so like his counterpart that she thought she should have felt something about his death. She didn't. Maybe it was the knowledge that Shran had set off the explosion which had taken his own life. Or maybe she was becoming immune to the shocks of this universe. More likely, she suspected, it was the adrenaline in her system and the need to deal with the moment at hand. There wasn't time right now to feel anything like regret or sorrow.

What she did feel was incredibly focused. She returned her attention to Archer. The makeshift bandage was rapidly becoming saturated with blood. "We need to get help for the captain," she said.

"Taken care of, ma'am," Mayweather said. "I contacted the ship. The doctor and Lieutenant Reed are on the way."

She let out a ragged breath as she repositioned the pad so that a dry portion covered the wound. At the rate the fabric was soaking up blood, it would need to be replaced soon. She was opening her mouth to tell Mayweather to help her rip the other sleeve from her uniform when a chirp came from his pocket. He pulled a communicator out and opened it.

"Corporal Mayweather!" came Reed's voice. "We've encountered resistance at the airlock."

Mayweather drew the pistol from his holster. He must be expecting a horde of angry Andorians to come through the doors any moment. Truth be told, so was she. She didn't understand why no one had shown up already. An explosion on her _Enterprise _would have resulted in repair and rescue crews, as well as armed security, rushing to the site.

"We can keep the airlock clear," Reed's voice continued, "but you're going to have to get here on your own."

"That might not be wise!" Hoshi cried in alarm, even as she realized that the human soldiers posed a bigger threat to the Andorian crew than the explosion, which probably explained why no one had come to check on Shran and Talas. "Moving the captain might kill him!"

Reed heard her, for he said, "You'll have to risk it. If we try to come to you, it will draw their forces in that direction. Interior scans show they don't have anyone near you at the moment, but that could change." He issued one last directive. "Move it, Mayweather. That's an order."

Mayweather closed the communicator and returned it to his pocket. He looked down at her almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, ma'am. My primary order to protect you has been superceded. I have to get the captain out of here."

Much as his quasi-apology touched her, she was in full agreement. "First, let me do something about his head wound," she said. She directed Mayweather to rip off her other sleeve. With deft movements, she tied it around Archer's forehead to hold the blood-soaked pad in place. "All right. Let's go," she said, standing and moving out of Mayweather's way as he leaned down to pick up Archer.

Mayweather, she noticed, had holstered his pistol. He'd had to, for he couldn't carry Archer over his shoulder, not with the piece of wood sticking out of his side. Instead, he had to use both hands to lift the unconscious man in his arms. As he was straightening with his burden, Hoshi reached over and slid the pistol from his holster.

"I know how to use one of these," Hoshi assured him when he jerked his head to look down at her in surprise. "Believe me, I want to get the captain back to _Enterprise _as much as you do."

Mayweather gave her an understanding look but didn't say anything. If he wanted to think that she was afraid what might happen to her as a captain's woman whose captain was no longer around, that was fine. Yes, she was afraid in that regard, but even worse, her chances of getting back to her universe probably would go up in smoke. Now she just had to convince Archer to find a way to send her home. Provided he survived, that is. If she could get him out of this alive, he'd owe her. Her grip tightened on the pistol as she followed Mayweather to the compartment's doors.

The injured soldier had hoisted his unconscious comrade over his shoulder and was waiting for them. At Mayweather's signal, he pushed the button next to the door to open it.

Hoshi made sure she was in position to have a clear shot if there was anyone in the corridor, but as Reed had informed them, the area was deserted. The discharges of sporadic phase-energy fire could be heard in the distance. Reed and the soldiers stationed at the airlock must be holding off the Andorians. As she trailed Mayweather down the corridor, she wondered if the people aboard this ship knew that their chancellor was dead. If so, they might fight even more fiercely.

They stopped just before the turn in the corridor. Hoshi took one look at the two burdened men and, pistol at the ready, slipped past Mayweather to peer around the corner. She stuck her head out, took a quick look, and pulled her head back.

She told Mayweather, "Two of our soldiers are prone on the deck, firing down the corridor away from us at the Andorians farther on. It looks like the rest of our men can't come out of the airlock, which is between our two soliders and the Andorians, because of the crossfire."

"You're going to have to go first and lay down covering fire over the heads of the soldiers on the deck," Mayweather said, "while Stevens and I run for the airlock."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Hoshi said dryly. She let out a long breath. It had been too much to hope he'd have a better idea.

"Hopefully, no Andorians will sneak up behind us," Mayweather added.

Hoshi rolled her eyes. She hadn't even thought of that. "Oh, great!"

"Ma'am," Mayweather said politely. With a grunt, he shifted Archer's limp body for a better hold. "Time's wasting."

Mayweather was a big man, but so was Archer. Hoshi realized that it was a considerable strain for Mayweather to carry the captain any distance, but the bodyguard hadn't complained.

"Right. On the count of three," she said. She took a deep breath and let it out. "One. Two. Three."

Hoshi threw herself into the corridor.

A/N: Sorry. Another cliffhanger. Stay tuned to find out what happens.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for all the reviews. The adventures of Hoshi continue in this chapter.

CHAPTER 24

Hoshi dropped into a roll and came up in a crouch. It was something she remembered seeing the Malcolm Reed of her universe do in a similar situation. She opened fire, trying to blanket the upper half of the passageway with deadly phased-energy shots; the lower half of the corridor could be covered by the two soliders who were ahead of her and already engaged in fighting.

"Go!" Mayweather yelled from behind her.

Without turning to see how close Mayweather was, Hoshi ran for the airlock, maintaining a steady rate of fire as she did. Over the noise of the firefight, she could hear heavy footsteps pounding the deck behind her. She steadily closed the distance to the airlock, ducking and weaving to present a smaller, moving target for the Andorians. One blast seared past her head. She reflexively ducked even farther.

She sprinted past the prone soldiers, who held their fire to avoid hitting her. Then she was at the airlock. Mindful of the two men carrying the injured, she didn't run inside the airlock, however. She ran past it, squatted close against the bulkhead, and kept up a stream of fire until she heard Mayweather, then the other burdened soldier stumble inside to safety.

The soldiers lying on the deck resumed their fire, their shots wide enough to miss her. Hoshi started to turn to go back to the airlock when she realized those two men were pinned down. It was something of a miracle that they hadn't been hit yet. She glanced down the corridor toward the Andorians. They kept popping out from an intersecting hallway to shoot and then jumping back into concealment. The soldiers on the deck were an easier target for them than she was because of the angle of fire, and if she left, there was a good chance they'd be killed when they tried to reach the airlock.

"Go!" she yelled at them, and began shooting again.

Her attention on the Andorians, she nevertheless was aware the two soldiers were still firing. Beams of phased energy kept zipping past in her peripheral vision. Why weren't they taking this opportunity to save themselves? Frustrated, she screamed, "Go!" Then she had an inspiration and yelled, "By the captain's order!"

She began inching backward toward the airlock, firing off shots so quickly that she wondered if the pistol in her hand would melt. A few more shots came from the soldiers behind her, then ceased. She heard scurrying sounds. The soldiers must be moving toward the airlock. With a gasp of relief, she scooted back, getting ready to turn her back on the Andorians and expose herself to their deadly fire for the second or two it would take her to make it into the airlock.

Without warning, a hand grabbed her arm, yanking her violently into the airlock. The door ground shut as soon as her feet cleared the threshold. More hands grabbed her where she'd fallen on the floor, pulling her to her feet and pushing her through the airlock and into _Enterprise_'s corridor. There, the hands released her. She took several ragged breaths as she watched the frenetic activity around her.

Reed, a phase rifle clutched in one hand, was activating the door closure mechanism on this side of the airlock. Mayweather had placed Archer on the deck, where Phlox was running a medical scanner over him. Nearby, a medical crewman was waiting with a stretcher. A few of the soldiers were taking their injured comrades away -- to sickbay, Hoshi assumed. The other soldiers, including Colonel Hawthorne who had pulled her to safety, were taking up defensive positions in case the Andorians tried to breach the closed airlock door.

Reed opened a channel to the bridge on the intercom panel next to the airlock. "Disengage the docking clamps," he said.

"Acknowledged," she heard Tucker's voice come over the connection. Before the channel closed, Hoshi heard him order torpedos to be fired as soon as _Enterprise _was clear of the Andorian ship.

Well, that answered that question, Hoshi thought dazedly, somewhat amazed that she hadn't been hurt in the insane dash to escape the Andorian ship. She'd wondered who the first officer on this ship was. It must be Tucker. Although Archer had left T'Pol in charge, Tucker must have assumed command at some point after the explosion.

Phlox, on his knees next to Archer, was fussing around. Hoshi made her way through the crowd of soldiers to stand next to him. "Will he make it?"

Phlox ignored her, his attention on the medical scanner. He didn't seem to be in any hurry, which angered Hoshi even more than not answering her question. "Doctor Phlox," she said in her best command voice, "Is he going to be all right?"

"Hmmm. Hard to tell," Phlox replied, making an adjustment to the scanner. "I don't believe I've ever seen this type of injury in person. I'll need to get him to sickbay." Instead of getting up, he continued to kneel by Archer.

After all she'd been through to get Archer to safety, she wasn't about to lose him now because Phlox was dilly-dallying. Infuriated by the doctor's apparent lack of concern for Archer's welfare, she clenched her fists and said, "Get him on that stretcher and get him to sickbay." When Phlox looked up at her with faint surprise, she barked in his face, "Now!"

Phlox's eyes went wide. Hoshi didn't know if it was because of her anger, which surprised even her, or because Reed had come up next to her and was scowling at the doctor. Phlox hastily got to his feet and motioned to the crewman to bring the stretcher.

"He better be alive when we're done with the Andorians, Doctor," Reed said, "or someone will pay."

Phlox gulped as he helped the crewman load Archer carefully on the stretcher. As they started off in the direction of sickbay, Hoshi made to follow. But Reed's hand shot out and grabbed her by the upper arm.

"Shran?" he asked intently.

For once, she wasn't frightened of Reed. It must be the adrenaline still coursing through her system. "Dead," she told him. "He wound up killing himself when he tried to kill us with a booby-trapped desk."

"That was the explosion we registered?" he asked.

She nodded as she looked down the corridor in the direction Archer had been taken. She tried to jerk her arm from Reed's grasp, but he tightened his hold.

"One more question," he said. "Then you go keep an eye on the captain. Make sure the doctor behaves."

Something in his tone was different. She looked closely at his face. He was still as intimidating as ever, but his usual mocking attitude was missing. For a moment, she was painfully reminded of the Reed of her universe. She shook off her homesickness. "All right. What's your question?"

His eyes flicked to the airlock and back. "How did you know to do that?" he asked.

"You mean how to shoot?"

"That, and the way you handled yourself coming down that corridor. I was able to see the entire thing."

She almost laughed. So much had happened in such a short time that she was afraid it would turn into hysterical laughter. "I had the best teacher -- you." At his puzzled expression, she added, "Well, the Malcolm Reed that I know in my universe, actually."

Reed's eyebrows shot up. This time when she pulled her arm away, he let go. "Mayweather, go with her," he ordered.

As she walked away, her bodyguard back on duty behind her, she was aware of Reed watching her. She'd just saved his captain, but had he thanked her?

_You're welcome_, she thought.

* * *

When Hoshi entered sickbay, the privacy curtains had been drawn around one of the biobeds. The shadowy shape of Phlox was visible on the other side. The soldiers who had been injured in the explosion were lying on biobeds in the main area, so Archer must be behind the curtain. She looked around, but the med tech who had helped Phlox bring Archer to sickbay was nowhere to be seen.

Hoshi indecisively paced back and forth a few steps. Reed had told her to keep an eye on Phlox. The tactical officer obviously didn't trust the doctor, but then, he probably didn't trust anyone. In this case, she didn't blame him. She wouldn't want Phlox operating on her without someone else around. But because of the curtain, she couldn't see what Phlox was doing in there.

She strode over to cabinets set into the wall and starting flinging open their doors.

"Ma'am?" Mayweather asked.

She found what she was looking for in the third cabinet. She grabbed a medical smock and tossed it at Mayweather, who caught it easily. "Put that on," she told him.

Mayweather hesitated only a second before following her order. He'd finished fastening the smock when she tossed a surgical face mask at him. "That too."

She quickly donned similar garments. Motioning for Mayweather to follow, she led the way to the cordoned-off area and pulled one of the curtains back far enough to allow her to enter. With a jerk of her head, she indicated Mayweather should come in as well. As soon as he stepped in, she pulled the curtain shut.

Phlox looked up from his work on Archer. "You're not allowed in here."

His usual cockiness had returned, Hoshi saw. But the events of the day, while they had shaken her, had also left her with an unyielding attitude of her own. Something like Phlox's fussiness wasn't going to slow her down. "As the captain's woman, I'm allowed wherever I want to go. Besides, you're going to need an assistant when it comes time to take that out," she said, gesturing at the splintered wood still in Archer's side. She moved to the opposite side of the bed from the doctor.

Phlox's eyes, unnaturally blue as they peered at her over the top of his surgical mask, considered her for a moment. "Your point is taken. Put on gloves," he said, indicating a supply box at the foot of the bed. He busied himself with some of the instruments on a bedside tray.

Hoshi looked at Archer as she pulled on the gloves. The makeshift bandage had been removed, and the cut on his forehead had been sutured. The dried blood surrounding the wound hadn't been cleaned away, however. She couldn't fault the doctor; he'd stopped the bleeding so that he could concentrate on the wooden spike in Archer's side. There were sterile wipes next to the box of gloves, so she grabbed several and worked on cleaning Archer's forehead. By the time she was finished, Phlox was ready to begin.

Later, she wouldn't remember much of the actual surgery itself. It was all she could do to follow Phlox's rapidly issued instructions to apply antiseptic, suction blood from the gaping wound, and hold instruments in place when he needed a free hand. Archer looked terribly pale when she snuck a glance at his face as Phlox was closing the wound.

When Phlox was finished, she motioned for Mayweather to stay with the captain before following the doctor into the main area of sickbay.

Phlox stripped off his mask and looked at her. "You'd make a passable nurse."

Hoshi, taking off her own mask, ignored the comment. "Is he going to make it?" She dropped the mask into a waste recycler and began taking off her blood-stained medical smock.

"Impossible to determine," Phlox commented with a shrug. "There's always a chance for infection."

While her Phlox might also answer the same way, he at least would promise to do everything he could to make sure there was a good outcome. This Phlox didn't. It only made her more determined to keep watch over Archer until she was absolutely positive he would recover.

"That's quite a nasty bruise," Phlox said, nodding toward her left arm.

Hoshi looked down at her arm. It was bare, as was her right arm, since she'd stripped off the sleeves of her uniform to bandage Archer's head. Four purplish-blue lines, each the width of a finger, stood out starkly on her skin. Glancing at the underside of her arm, she found a bruise the size of a thumb. That must have happened when Hawthorne had yanked her so unceremoniously into the airlock. She checked her other arm. There was a lighter set of bruises from when Reed had stopped her in the corridor.

She looked at the doctor, who was staring at her with undisguised curiosity. Her bruises were trivial compared to the needs of the patient behind the curtain, or either of the two soldiers still awaiting the doctor's attention, for that matter.

"I'm going to go change, but I'm leaving Mayweather here," she told the doctor. Taking a page from this universe's Reed, she added, "For your sake, the captain better be alive when I get back."


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: I really, really want to thank everyone who has left reviews. Considering how fast I'm cranking out this story, each and every review is appreciated, as it helps encourage me to keep going. Believe it or not, the end is in sight, although there are still a number of chapters to go.

CHAPTER 25

Hoshi returned to the captain's cabin, only to stand stymied in the corridor in front of the door. Archer hadn't seen fit to give her the code. She had either been with him when they'd returned to the cabin, or T'Pol had unlocked it for her after they'd had lunch together.

She didn't want to call T'Pol to ask for the code; the Vulcan science officer and the rest of the bridge crew were probably still busy with the Andorians. There was also the captain's steward; she supposed she could page Cunningham, but she wasn't in the mood to wait on him to get there. Staring stubbornly at the keypad on the panel, she reasoned that if she deciphered the encryption now, she wouldn't have to face this dilemma again.

She considered breaking in through her own cabin door, but she wanted to hold that in reserve. So, it had to be captain's door. Archer might assume she'd had Cunningham open it for her like he had that one time, and he would be none the wiser that, if she wished, she could leave her cabin at any time.

She started pressing buttons. She was making good progress, figuring out three numbers quickly, when she heard herself being paged. From the crisp British accent, it had to be Reed. Belatedly she realized that he probably had some sort of alert on his bridge console that let him know if someone tried to tamper with access codes. It was, after all, something her Malcolm Reed would do.

With a sigh, she went to the closest intercom panel. "Sato here."

"Why aren't you in sickbay?" he demanded.

"The captain is out of surgery," she said. "I'm just going to change, then go right back." Reed didn't say anything, but she swore she could feel his disapproval emanating all the way from the bridge. He had told her to keep an eye on things in sickbay. She added, "Mayweather is with the captain."

"I'm unlocking the captain's cabin door," came the mollified response.

As much as Hoshi wanted to know the access code, now was not the time to quibble about how she got into the captain's cabin. She'd splash some water on her face, change her clothes, go back to sickbay, and let poor Mayweather have some down time. She was beginning to trust the bodyguard -- it was hard not to when he looked so much like her friend -- but she felt compelled to watch over Archer herself, if only for her own peace of mind. That, and she didn't trust Phlox as far as she could throw him.

She heard a faint click when the lock disengaged. Preoccupied with what she needed to do, she wasn't prepared for the canine rocket that almost knocked her over when she opened the door and stepped into the cabin.

"Dart!" she cried, trying to fend off the overjoyed doberman pinscher. "I forgot all about you. You must be hungry!"

The dog continued to jump and paw at her, barking all the while, until she told it sternly, "Sitzen Sie!" The dog immediately sat on its haunches. "Guter Hund," she told it. She motioned for it to stay, adding the verbal command, "Aufenhalt."

She went to the cabinet where Archer kept Dart's food, put some in the dog's bowl, and placed it on the floor in front of Dart. The dog immediately began eating.

Satisfied that Dart had been taken care of, she headed for the adjoining cabin. After washing her face, she changed into the lavender jumpsuit the captain had given her. She couldn't bring herself to throw away her old uniform jumpsuit, even if it was sans sleeves. She'd probably never wear it again, but it was the only physical reminder she had of her universe. Every time she wore something else, she felt as if she was sliding closer toward being stuck here forever.

Dart padded into her cabin and came over to sniff the uniform in her hands. Lost in thought, she absently scratched him behind his big pointy ears until he whined.

"You're wondering where he's at, aren't you, boy?" she said.

Dart licked her hand as if agreeing with her, then sat back and gazed up expectantly at her.

If the captain couldn't come to Dart, she thought, she'd just have to take Dart to him.

* * *

Reed cut the intercom connection after telling Sato he would unlock the door. It was a good thing they'd finished with the Andorian chancellor's ship, of which there was now only tiny bits of debris. Otherwise, he might have missed the small telltale that lit on his console when the lock on the captain's cabin was being breached.

He'd known it had to be Sato. Phlox had commed him not five minutes earlier to tell him that she'd left sickbay. He smiled sardonically. The doctor could be easily bullied, and had agreed to tell him the moment Sato left sickbay, which he had. Reed hadn't been sure he could depend on the woman from another universe to have the best interests of his captain at heart. Her departure from sickbay had seemed to prove he couldn't. That is, until she'd told him that she'd left her own personal bodyguard on duty to watch over Archer, and that she intended to return posthaste.

She was turning out to be full of surprises. Not only was she a linguistic genius, but she apparently had a fair amount of experience in decryption. He'd watched, first in amusement as he expected her to fail, then in surprise as she managed to get three of the five numbers of the code. That's when he had decided it was time to put an end to her hacking.

Reed didn't kid himself. He personally would never attempt to take advantage of the captain's unexpected incapacitation. He knew his own career was entwined with Archer's, and he wasn't about to kill his golden goose. Sato was in the same predicament; her welfare depended on the captain remaining in good health. Others, he thought darkly as he gazed down at the command chair where Tucker was sitting, might not be so inclined.

As soon as they were underway to Panmikar to help finish off the rest of the Andorian fleet, he'd stop by sickbay himself to check on the captain.

And maybe it was time to start thinking of Sato as an asset, instead of a captain's plaything to be used and discarded.

* * *

T'Pol was aware of the brief exchange between Reed and Sato. Her sensitive hearing was often overlooked by the human members of the crew. She had picked up many valuable pieces of information that way, some of which had been to her advantage.

From the gist of Reed's conversation, the human woman had become Archer's ally. That was an interesting turn of events. During their lunchtime conversations, T'Pol had come to the conclusion that Sato was biding her time, waiting for an opportunity to go back to her universe.

She glanced at Tucker in the command chair. She and the engineer had figured out how Sato had come to be here. With more analysis, it might be possible to send her back. The captain, however, had sworn both of them not to tell Sato of their findings. T'Pol, of course, hadn't told Sato. Archer would find a suitable punishment for her if she did. And Tucker rarely had contact with Sato, so he probably hadn't let the secret slip, either.

But Sato may have figured out on her own that Archer was the only obstacle to returning to her universe. She was quite intelligent for a human.

T'Pol was surprised Sato wasn't taking advantage of this opportunity to rid herself of Archer. Then again, the humans of Sato's universe weren't ruthless barbarians like those with whom she had to share this ship. Perhaps killing Archer wasn't an option for Sato. From the glimpse into Sato's mind, T'Pol realized she probably hadn't even considered it.

Despite her Vulcan control, she found herself wishing that, if Sato was to go back, she could go with her.

* * *

Poor Jonny was in sickbay, possibly breathing his last, Tucker mused as he watched the stars sliding past on main viewscreen. Too bad for Archer, but definitely an improvement for himself. He could get used to sitting in the captain's chair.

Sure, he got along with Archer, almost considered him a friend, but that didn't mean he'd pass up such an opportunity. He'd be a fool if he did. After all he'd done for the captain, where had it gotten him? Stuck in engineering, even though he was the first officer.

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to where Archer's watchdog -- _human _watchdog -- was at the tactical console. Reed wouldn't willingly move up in rank at Archer's disposal. No, Reed was the sort who would move up in rank and still take his revenge, instead of being grateful.

If he did do anything, he'd have to be very careful.

* * *

Mayweather was idly wondering how long he'd have to stand watch when Sato walked into sickbay. He was somewhat surprised to see that she'd brought that walking buzzsaw with her. The captain's dog had a reputation for being very aggressive, but she appeared perfectly at ease with it.

She came straight into the curtained-off area. "How is he?" she asked.

"No change, ma'am," he answered.

She walked to the side of the biobed, the dog matching her pace, and pensively gazed at Archer's face. She gently laid her hand on the captain's forehead.

"No fever," she muttered softly. Then to him, "Has the doctor been in here since I left?"

"Once, ma'am."

"Did he do anything?"

Mayweather shrugged. "Checked readings, that's all."

Sato pulled a chair closer to the biobed. "Thanks for staying with him. Now why don't you go get something to eat and maybe get some sleep."

"Ma'am?" he asked, puzzled.

"I'll stay with him for now," she said as she sat down. "But later I'll want you to relieve me."

Now that they were back on the ship, his primary duty once again was to protect her, not the captain. He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut in before he could speak.

"You've been on duty all day," she said. "You were almost been blown up, were in a firefight, and lugged the captain off the Andorian ship. It's now close to twenty hundred hours. If you didn't eat anything before you came on duty this morning, you haven't eaten all day. I don't want you keeling over when I need you."

She sounded quite composed, considering she'd gone through the same things as he had. The bets down in the combat troop quarters were heavy that she would blow away like a leaf in the wind at the first sign of things going badly. His fellow soldiers had ridiculed him, saying he'd be a babysitter, not a bodyguard, which had rankled, even though he'd thought the same thing himself.

They'd all misjudged her. He couldn't wait to tell them how wrong they'd been, especially since he had placed a couple of bets in her favor. Long odds always appealed to him.

"Well, don't just stand there grinning like an idiot," she said. "Oh, and before you go, give me your phase pistol, just in case Dart here isn't enough of a deterrent."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, feeling his smile grow even bigger.

* * *

The chair in which Hoshi was sitting wasn't the most comfortable, but for that reason, she appreciated it. Even with Dart at her feet, she didn't want to fall asleep. Later, if she felt sleepy, she'd see if she could scrounge up some coffee.

She glanced down at the dog, which was lying on its stomach, relaxed yet alert. After Mayweather had left, she'd allowed Dart to put his front legs on the biobed so he could sniff Archer. Dart seemed to sense something was wrong, for he nudged Archer's arm with his nose. When Dart started to whine, Hoshi had pulled the dog away.

For the first time that day, she had a chance to think about her situation. As if she wasn't depressed enough, she thought ruefully. Archer had to pull through, or her chances of going home were kaput. She snorted at her unintentional use of a word of German origin, which in turn had originated from a French word. Not only was she starting to think in German, mainly because of the dog, but she was getting a definite etymological shift to her somewhat slap-happy mood. Not a good sign. She must be more tired than she realized.

Or it could just be reaction to everything that had happened today. Her hand holding Dart's leash had a slight tremor, she noticed. Not actually shaking, but she couldn't consciously control it.

She went back to studying Archer's face, so much like the man who commanded her _Enterprise_, but so different inside. Ever since she'd arrived in this universe, he'd been calling all the shots concerning her. That was going to have to change.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: As always, thank you to those leaving reviews. And now, time for another twist to the story. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 26

Archer came back to awareness slowly. From what his senses were telling him, he must be on _Enterprise_. The antiseptic smell of Phlox's sickbay was unique.

The last thing he remembered was Sato yelling. No, that wasn't correct, he thought as his groggy mind started to clear. The last thing he remembered was Shran's desk exploding right in front of him _after _Sato had shouted a warning. At least he wasn't dead. He shifted slightly, and wondered if death might not be preferable. The burning pain that shot from his side up through his torso and chest was unbelieveable. A groan escaped his lips.

"You're awake," came Sato's voice from nearby, followed by a familiar bark.

Without moving his head, he opened his eyes a slit. Sato was seated in a chair next to the biobed. Sitting on the floor next to her was Dart. Both were watching him intently. His eyelids drifted closed.

"How are you feeling?" Sato asked.

"How do you think I'm feeling?" he retorted sarcastically, although his voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I wouldn't know," Sato responded tartly. "I've never had a piece of wood the size of a chair leg impaled in my side."

Archer's eyes flew open. That explained the terrible ache in his side. He turned his head to look directly at her, wincing as new pain stabbed near the top of his head.

"You have a pretty nasty cut on your forehead, too," she told him.

"What happened?" he grated out.

"You tell me," she said.

"Damn it!" he said, struggling to sit up despite the pain. "Don't argue with me!"

Sato sprang from the chair to try to push him back down on the biobed. "You move around too much and you're liable to make it worse."

The small tussle was taking about all his meager store of energy, and he idly wondered how much blood he'd lost. When his vision started to blur, he gave in and lay back. He could still glare at her, though.

She glared right back.

She was definitely in a snit about something. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it. He'd become an immovable object against her irresistible force. For all the times he'd been impressed by her inner strength and resilience, just this once it would have been nice if she didn't have those qualities.

He peered more closely at her. "You look like hell," he said.

That caught her off guard, he saw, but she quickly recovered. She glanced down at herself, raising a hand to her shoulder to touch the lavender jumpsuit. "If you didn't like this outfit," she said, "why did you give it to me?"

She was being deliberately obtuse. He closed his eyes and counted to ten; there was no sense losing his temper when he couldn't follow through with it. He opened his eyes again to find her looking worriedly at him. She really did look like she'd been to hell and back. A change of clothes couldn't hide the dark rings under her eyes or the fact that she looked so exhausted that she might collapse any moment. Careful to keep his voice calm, he asked, "If you don't mind telling me, how did I get off Shran's ship?"

"Mayweather carried you," she said.

"What about Shran?"

"He's dead," she said. "The blast got him, too. I don't think he meant to kill himself."

"No," he contradicted her. "I'm sure he meant to kill himself. That he might have taken me with him would have been an added bonus."

A strange look came over Sato's face. "You did say he had gone too far with something, and there was mention of a double-cross. What exactly did--"

The doors to sickbay slid open, interrupting their conversation. From the look on Sato's face, however, Archer knew she wasn't done with the sensitive subject she'd just brought up. How sensitive it was, she had no idea.

* * *

Hoshi crossed her arms over her chest in exasperation. She'd been on the brink of finding out what Archer had really been up to on Shran's ship when they'd been interrupted by Reed's arrival in sickbay. She would have to hope she could bring the topic up later. She stepped back, covering her mouth with her hand as she yawned, as Reed approached the captain.

"Sir," Reed said by way of greeting. "Good to see that you're still alive."

Hoshi wasn't sure, but she thought Reed was sincere. When Archer inched himself up higher in the bed, she stepped over to arrange some pillows behind his back. She could see that he was in considerable pain as he levered himself into a sitting position.

Breathing heavily with exertion as he settled himself in the new position, Archer ordered, "Give me a report, Mister Reed."

"Shran's ship has been destroyed with all hands," Reed said. There was a strange light in his eyes. The man obviously got off on destruction. "We are currently on course for the Panmikar system, where Imperial forces under Captain Hernandez have engaged the Andorian fleet."

"Any reports how that's going?" Archer asked.

"All indications are that the Andorians are putting up a good effort, but will lose eventually. _Enterprise'_s arrival in a few hours should ensure that outcome, if it hasn't happened by then. Panmikar appears safe."

Archer put a hand to the wound on his side, gingerly touching it as he mulled over Reed's comments. He pulled his hand away with a grimace. "Didn't the doctor give me any painkillers?" he grumpily asked Hoshi.

"Not that I know of," she said. "He's only checked on you once in the time I've been here. And then, he didn't say anything."

"Well, find him and get him to give me something."

When she hesitated, Reed said harshly, "Do as the captain says."

Reed's tone cut through her exhaustion. Hoshi uncrossed her arms and strode off to find Phlox. She checked his office, but he wasn't there. He wasn't in the supply room, either. She finally found him in an adjacent room, feeding his animals. He glanced up when she entered but continued to sprinkle something into a cage full of greenery.

"The captain wants something for the pain," she told him.

Just then the foliage shook wildly. Phlox smiled, although to Hoshi, it appeared to be a sad smile. "There you go, my darlings. That should hold you until tomorrow."

Hoshi shifted her weight. "Now, Doctor."

"Coming," he said. He gave her a wide berth as he walked past her into the main treatment area.

Hoshi wondered if her outburst in the corridor, when he'd been slow to treat the captain's injuries, was still affecting him. He'd complimented her on her assistance during Archer's surgery, so surely he wasn't scared of her. His current skittish demeanor was new, but not necessarily an improvement over his previous indifference.

She watched as he went to one of the cabinets lining sickbay's walls, took out a hypospray, and inserted a cartridge. When he turned around and saw her watching him, he immediately averted his eyes. She didn't know this Phlox the way she did the one in her universe, but this behavior was off even for what little she knew of him.

"What's in the hypo?" she asked suspiciously.

"Um." Phlox swallowed. "Just the standard painkiller."

Hoshi stared at him, alarm bells ringing in her head. "Let me see."

"That's not necessary--"

"Malcolm!" she yelled.

At the sound of footsteps from the curtained area, Phlox took off running. Hoshi made a grab for him but missed. But in dodging her, Phlox was delayed in reaching his objective -- the main door to sickbay. Reed easily caught Phlox, and was holding a pistol to the Denobulan's head before Hoshi was aware he'd pulled the gun from his holster.

"What's your rush, Doctor?" Reed asked, jamming the barrel of the pistol against the doctor's temple.

His startlingly blue eyes wide, Phlox didn't answer. Reed glanced at Hoshi.

"He was getting a hypospray ready for the captain," she told him, "but I don't think it was a painkiller. He wouldn't let me see it."

"Where is it?" Reed asked.

She looked back at the counter where Phlox had loaded the hypo, but it wasn't there. "It must be in one of his pockets."

Still holding the gun on Phlox, Reed checked the Denobulan's clothing and found the hypo in a tunic pocket. He took one look at it and tossed it to Hoshi. "What is it?"

The label on the cartridge was in Denobulan. She translated it. "Lebanea extract."

"I have no idea what that is, but it doesn't sound like a painkiller," Reed said in a dangerous voice to Phlox.

"It's not," Hoshi said. "It's from a poisonous plant on Denobula." She remembered her Phlox once talking about treating a child who been accidentally poisoned by ingesting some of the leaves of the Lebanea plant. "I've heard of it. The amount in this cartridge could probably kill an adult in minutes."

Reed scowled at the doctor. "Really, Doctor. That was a very amateurish attempt at assassination." He dragged Phlox toward the curtained area. "We'll let the captain decide what punishment is fitting for a physician who was going to kill him."

Phlox started sobbing.

"What the hell is all that commotion?" Archer demanded as Reed, keeping a firm grip on Phlox's upper arm and followed by Hoshi, entered Archer's private area behind the curtain.

Dart, agitated by the noise, was on his feet, growling. Archer made a hand motion, and the dog subsided, but its hackles remained raised.

"He was going to kill you, sir, by giving you poison instead of painkiller," Reed said, which made Phlox cry harder. "Shut up!" he yelled, giving the doctor a shake.

The scene had a surreal quality for Hoshi. Archer, injured and now furious, sitting up in his bed. Dart nearby, poised to attack. Reed, righteous anger radiating from him, yet obviously enjoying the anticipation of some sort of punishment for Phlox, probably because he was going to administer it. And Phlox, trying to stifle his sobs, but not totally succeeding. Hoshi felt like a spectator at a very bad play based on characters she knew.

Even worse, she'd somehow known that Phlox had been about to harm the captain. Reed had warned her to watch him, but it wasn't just that. With a start, she realized that she was coming to expect the worst in this universe.

"Phlox," Archer said with barely restrained anger, "I can't believe you'd do this on your own."

The doctor lifted his now watery eyes to look directly at Archer. "I didn't want to do it. Please believe me, Captain. But he threatened to kill me if I didn't."

"Who?" Archer demanded.

Phlox let out a bleat. "I can't say. He will kill me."

Reed poked Phlox with the pistol. Phlox flinched, as if expecting to be shot right there, but he refused to give up a name. "I'm a dead man either way," Phlox said.

"Take him to the booth," Archer ordered. "Maybe then he'll tell us who put him up to this."

The most pitiful sob yet came from Phlox as Reed started to drag him away.

"And get me something to dull this pain," Archer told Hoshi through gritted teeth.

Hoshi knew now was not the time to argue with the captain. He was liable to order her to the booth, whatever that was. From Phlox's reaction, it wasn't good.

She stepped past the curtain to find Reed standing with his prisoner near the main door. He motioned her over. "The captain needs something for the pain, but after this, I don't trust anything in sickbay."

Hoshi nodded. "Phlox might have deliberately mislabeled some of the medications, so I thought I'd get a painkiller hypo from a first aid kit on one of the shuttlepods." She paused and looked at him. "You do have shuttlepods in this universe, don't you?"

An approving smile crossed Reed's face. "You're a clever one." He became serious. "Get Mayweather up here to stand guard until you get back."

Hoshi nodded again. Reed pushed the button to open the door, but he turned back to her. "Oh, and you can call me Malcolm again any time you like." He gave her a lascivious smile before marching Phlox out into the corridor.

Hoshi shuddered. She couldn't believe she'd called him by his first name when she'd needed him to deal with Phlox. It had been totally unintentional. She'd been reacting to the situation, and it had just slipped out as, distracted by Phlox's uncharacteristic behavior, she'd called out as she would have in her universe for the one person available to help her.

As she went to the intercom to page Mayweather, she shuddered again. And to think, there for a few moments, she'd actually thought she'd been wrong about the nature of this Reed.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!

CHAPTER 27

They moved Archer, at his request, to his quarters. After what had happened, Hoshi couldn't blame him for wanting to leave sickbay. She hadn't wanted to stay there any longer than necessary herself, and she wasn't the one who had been the target of an assassination attempt. Sickbay was too vulnerable. Anyone in the entire crew could waltz right in without warning.

Reed was still off somewhere, so Hoshi and Mayweather half led, half carried Archer to his cabin. The captain had refused to use a wheelchair or a stretcher. He didn't want the crew see him so incapacitated. As it was, it being late in the ship's day, they didn't see anyone in the short distance from sickbay to his quarters, which was on the same deck as the medical facility.

Hoshi got Archer settled in his bunk. Between the exertion of moving to his cabin and the painkiller she'd gotten from one of the shuttlepod first aid kits kicking in, he was asleep almost immediately. At least his agonizing journey from sickbay hadn't resulted in any blood showing through the bandage on his side.

Next, she paged Cunningham to bring some food. When asked, Mayweather told her that he had eaten and rested. That was good, because she felt like she was about to drop at any moment, and she wanted to have someone with the captain at all times. Of the entire crew, she only trusted Mayweather and Reed to do that. She thought she could rely on Mayweather because he'd unfailingly followed her orders earlier, not to mention that Reed would probably have him shot if anything happened to the captain on his watch.

Trusting Reed was another matter. He still made her uncomfortable, especially after that look he'd given her in sickbay before he'd left with Phlox. But he seemed to be just as concerned with Archer's safety as she was.

T'Pol might also be trustworthy, but for the moment, Hoshi didn't want to widen the circle protecting Archer.

A wet nose nudged her hand as she stood lost in thought after ordering the food. She looked down to smile at Dart. The doberman had been underfoot during the slow walk from sickbay, aware that something was wrong with his master, but he had calmed once they'd brought Archer into the cabin. Dart was the most loyal of creatures, but she had no doubt who would come out the winner in a match between a dog and a phase pistol. It would be unwise to leave Dart to protect Archer by himself.

Mayweather, standing by the door, let Cunningham in when he arrived bearing a covered tray. After the steward had placed the tray on the table, Hoshi lifted the lids on the various dishes: a cheeseburger and potato chips, salad, and a small thermos of iced tea, along with a bowl of thin soup and crackers, which apparently was the standard fare for invalids on this ship. The aroma that reached her nose sent her salivary glands into overdrive.

Despite her hunger, she looked suspiciously at the food. "Who fixed all this?" she asked.

"I did, ma'am," Cunningham responded quietly. "I always prepare the captain's food."

That probably explained why the food the captain ate, both in his quarters and in his private dining room, was so much better than what was available in the mess hall. Someone who cared about what they were preparing had fixed it. She looked back at the steward, whose pensive attention was on Archer in his bunk.

"Do I need to have you taste everything on this tray?" she asked Cunningham sharply.

He turned startled eyes to her. "No, ma'am," he replied, seemingly more hurt than indignant by her implication.

Unrelenting, she asked, "You do know that Doctor Phlox tried to poison the captain?"

Cunningham shook his head. "No, ma'am. Did he really? I heard that the doctor had a session in the agony booth because he'd displeased the captain. That's all, I swear." His brow furrowed in puzzlement, he looked back at the captain. "Why would the doctor want to do that?" he asked.

There was no prevarication or artifice in Cunningham's speech that Hoshi could detect. She thought he was telling the truth. "Make sure no one else touches the food you prepare for the captain. If you have any doubts about any of it, don't use it. That's all for now."

Cunningham dipped his head and headed for the door. It had just slid shut behind him when her stomach let out a growl that made Dart lift his head from his paws where he was lying next to Archer's bed. She looked again at the burger and chips, and decided that she was much too hungry to let the possibility of poison, no matter how remote, deter her. She sat down at the table and took a large bite of the cheeseburger. She closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. It tasted even better than it smelled.

The door chime sounded. She hurriedly chewed what was in her mouth and swallowed. "Would you get that, Corporal?" she said to Mayweather.

She was wiping her mouth with a napkin when the door slid open. She couldn't see who was outside, but Mayweather stepped back to allow the person to enter.

Reed walked in. His gaze went immediately to Archer. "How is he?"

"Sleeping," she said.

"I can see that," he said testily. "How's his condition?"

Hoshi clamped her lips shut before she could say something she'd regret. Reed was really starting to tick her off. She was a communications officer and a linguist, not a med professional. She didn't even belong in this universe, but she was expected not only to protect the captain of this ship, but be his doctor as well? After all she'd been through today, the only one who had asked how she was doing had been Mayweather, right after the explosion. He probably had been afraid she'd died and he would get in trouble for having failed in his bodyguard duties, she thought uncharitably.

She wasn't aware that she was glaring angrily at Reed until she saw one of his eyebrows go up in surprise.

"Maybe I should check for myself," he muttered.

Hoshi picked up the cheeseburger, chomped off a large bite, and chewed vigorously, telling herself that she needed to get a grip. It had been a long day, full of tense and dangerous moments. She must have reached her tolerance limit. It was merely chance that Reed had been the one to push her past that limit; he was just being himself. Well, himself in this universe, she amended.

Her spurt of anger cooled somewhat as she realized that reaction to the day was finally setting in. She poured herself a glass of tea from the thermos as Reed pulled the sheet covering Archer back far enough to see the captain's bandaged side.

Actually, Reed wasn't acting like the Reed of this universe, now that she thought about it. He should have been in her face, taking her down a notch, for her behavior toward him. Maybe he wasn't used to someone standing up to him.

Whatever. As soon as he left, she was going to have Mayweather stand guard for a few hours while she had a nervous breakdown in her cabin. Hopefully, she'd get some sleep while she was at it. Now that she was putting some food in her system, she could feel lethargy taking hold.

Reed put the sheet back in place, stood for a long moment looking down at the captain, and turned back toward her. "He seems to be doing as well as can be expected." A small smile crossed his lips. "Most of that's due to your care."

Hoshi, the glass of tea halfway to her mouth, paused to stare incredulously at him. He'd actually complimented her. Studying his face, she saw that the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes -- what on her Malcolm's face were called laugh lines but here were no doubt the product of suspicion and distrust -- seemed more pronounced than usual. He was just as tired as she was.

"Um, thanks," she mumbled. She took a long drink of the tea.

He took a few steps closer to her. "Until the captain is out of the woods, we'll need to have someone with him at all times."

"I've already thought of that," she said. "Me, you, Mayweather. Is there anyone else?"

"Cunningham, perhaps. He's loyal to the captain." Reed looked at the food on the tray. "It would probably be better just to let him take care of the captain's food. He uses a small kitchen separate from the main galley." His glance flicked to her. "Unless you'd like to do that.

_And now he expects me to be a cook on top of everything else? _she wondered. "No, thanks. What about T'Pol?"

"She can't cook," Reed said. He shook his head as if to clear it. "I can't believe I said that. I know you meant guarding the captain. T'Pol's a last resort. She's loyal to the captain because she has to be, not because she wants to be. She might find this--" He glanced to where the captain lie in a drugged sleep. "--too good an opportunity to pass up."

Archer must have some type of hold over T'Pol. Hoshi had spent enough time in this universe not to be surprised by that possibility, but the thought itself jolted her. She didn't like automatically assuming the worst of people. Even more, she didn't like how this universe was changing her.

But then, it wasn't often that she associated with a person who might be a murderer. She still hadn't had a chance to ask Archer about avenging his father's death. Or what kind of deal he'd made with Shran. There was definitely something fishy about the whole Andorian affair.

Her preoccupation was shattered when Reed reached over and snatched a chip from her plate. "You need to get some sleep, luv," he told her before popping the chip into his mouth and chewing. When he swallowed, he turned to Mayweather, "Corporal?"

"I'm good for at least eight hours, sir," the bodyguard said.

"Very good," Reed told him. "Remain on duty until I relieve you."

"You're going to stand guard?" Hoshi asked Reed. "What about your other duties?"

"My duty to Captain Archer takes precedence over everything else." Reed's gray eyes glinted sardonically as he added, "I could also take over Mayweather's bodyguard duties for you when I'm here."

"Oh, get out!" she said, tossing another chip at him; it was the only projectile close at hand. She didn't have enough energy to protest more than that.

With a tired laugh, he deftly caught the chip and left, leaving Hoshi to wonder. Was his comment more of the same from a despicable caricature of a man she'd known and respected for more than four years, or had he merely been teasing her?

With a sigh, she turned back to her meal. She'd worry about that tomorrow, after she got a good night's sleep.

* * *

The shouting woke Hoshi. After a moment's disorientation, she realized the noise was coming from Archer's cabin. She'd left the door between their quarters slightly ajar, and she could clearly hear Archer's voice, loud and angry. From the garbled, disjointed shouts, it sounded like someone was attacking him. Thankful that she'd been too tired to change out of her jumpsuit, she tossed back the covers, leaped from her bed, and rushed into his cabin.

Mayweather was holding Archer down on the bunk, trying to dodge the captain's flailing arms. Hoshi's breath caught in her throat. Had she been wrong about the bodyguard? Then she picked up what Mayweather was saying, which was all but drowned out by Archer's raving. He was trying to reassure the captain, who appeared to be in the midst of some demented state.

It didn't help that Dart had clamped onto Mayweather's pant leg and was tugging for all he was worth.

"Dart, Sitzen Sie!" Hoshi commanded.

The dog let go of Mayweather and sat.

Mayweather looked up worriedly at her approach. "He woke up a few minutes ago and started acting like this."

Archer's face was flushed bright red and his eyes were glazed. How much of that was due to his agitation and how much to his injury, she didn't know. He might have developed an infection, which could result in a fever that was causing his current state. What she did know was that something had to be done about it. If he kept thrashing around, he was going to reopen the wound on his side.

"Keep holding him," she told Mayweather as she rushed over to where she'd left the med kit on a shelf. "He's delirious and could hurt himself."

She rifled through the contents of the med kit. Last night, she'd loaded a hypo with more painkiller in case Archer needed it when he woke. After a quick search for another hypo, she found the cartridge she wanted -- a broad-spectrum antibiotic. Snatching up what she needed, she strode back to the bed.

"Whaz that?" Archer slurred out as he spotted the hypos in her hand.

"It will make you feel better," she said, leaning toward him, the antibiotic hypo at the ready.

"No!" he yelled, his eyes so wide that his irises were ringed with white. "You're trying to kill me! You're all trying to kill me."

"I hope that's a sedative," Mayweather said, then grunted as one of Archer's swinging arms connected with the side of his head.

Hoshi almost stamped her foot in frustration. She didn't know if a sedative on top of a painkiller and an antibiotic was a good idea. Or if she gave him a sedative, maybe she could skip the painkiller; he wouldn't know he was in pain if he was unconscious.

The sound of the door chime interrupted her indecision. "Hang on," she told Mayweather and ran to see who was at the door.

T'Pol, as cool and composed as ever, was standing on the other side. "I came to see how the captain is." Her gaze went past Hoshi to the ruckus on the bunk. "Perhaps I should come back later."

"Yes," Hoshi said, then changed her mind. "No! Get in here."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow.

Hoshi didn't have time for niceties. She grabbed T'Pol by the arm, hauled her into the room, and said, "Pinch him."

T'Pol's other eyebrow rose to join the first. "Excuse me?"

"You know," Hoshi said, making a pinching motion with her fingers on her shoulder. "Pinch him. Like Vulcans can do." A thought struck her. "Do Vulcans in this universe use the nerve pinch?"

Comprehension dawned on T'Pol's face. "Surely a sedative would work better."

"I can't get close enough to him with a hypo to give him anything, much less a sedative. If he doesn't calm down, he'll reopen the wound in his side. So go pinch him!"

"As you wish," T'Pol said. She walked over to the bunk, where Archer looked up at her with fever-mad eyes.

"You!" he spat, struggling harder against Mayweather. "I should have known you were behind this."

Ignoring the outburst, T'Pol calmly leaned down, positioned the fingers of her left hand on Archer's shoulder, and gave a squeeze. His eyes immediately rolled up in his head and he ceased struggling, collapsing back onto the bed.

T'Pol straightened and looked at Hoshi. "He is much warmer than is usual for a human, even one who has recently exerted himself."

"He's running a fever," Hoshi said.

As Mayweather moved out the way, Hoshi whipped back the sheet. As she'd feared, the bandage on Archer's side had a large bloody stain. She was going to have to redress the wound. Her nose wrinkled at the putrid smell as she peeled off the bandage. The deep gouge had definitely become infected. That could be the result of some more of Phlox's handiwork, but she didn't think so. She'd been there during the surgery and hadn't seen that he'd done anything to cause it.

Then again, as she had told herself several times in the last twelve hours, she had no formal medical training. She'd do what she knew was safe, and no more. "I'm going to give him an antibiotic and hope that helps. I'll hold off on the painkiller until he wakes again."

T'Pol gazed at the captain, then back at her. "I suggest you also have the sedative handy when he does."

Hoshi heartily agreed.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: I keep saying it, but you all deserve it -- thanks for the reviews!

CHAPTER 28

Hoshi was unable to go back to sleep after Archer's delirium fit, so she sent Mayweather away to get some rest. He had only had a few hours off before she'd called him back to sickbay, then he'd help bring Archer here, and had wound up in a wrestling match with the captain. Mayweather was probably more exhausted than she had been before her nap, although he'd never admit it.

She looked at the chronometer and was surprised to see that she'd managed almost six hours of sleep before all hell had broken loose. Thinking she better be ready if it happened again, she checked the med kit. The inventory was disappointing. There was the cartridge of painkiller she'd loaded in the hypospray last night but hadn't used. There were two cartridges of sedative, one of which she loaded in another hypo so that there would be no delay in administering it if Archer's delirium returned when he woke. But there was only one more dose of antibiotic, which was what Archer really needed. Despite her meager knowledge of medicine, she knew that a normal regimen of antibiotics ran for several days.

Reed should be along soon. She supposed she could make another trip to the launch bay then and get another of the shuttlepod first aid kits, or she could ask Reed to do it. At some point, however, they were going to have to check sickbay for more antibiotic, although she knew she would distrust whatever was found there.

She checked Archer, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully, then poured what was left of the iced tea into a glass. Dart padded over to put his head on her lap, his eyes gazing up at her as she took a sip of the tea. For such a supposedly fierce dog, he could be very sweet at times. Animals could pick up on humans' emotions, and if all he sensed were anger and distrust, no wonder he could be a terror. Environment played a big role in how both humans and animals acted. Maybe no one had been kind to Dart until she had come along.

She'd been petting Dart for a few minutes when the door chime rang. She pushed the dog's head off her lap and went to the door. She'd been expecting Reed, so she was surprised when she opened the door to find Tucker standing there.

His blue eyes glittered unnaturally bright in the dim lighting of the corridor. "Hi, darlin'," he drawled. "I thought I'd stop by 'n see how the cap'n's doin'. I ain't due back on duty just yet."

His accent was more pronounced than usual. Occasionally, her Trip would drop a "g," and he could be sloppy in his speech patterns, but she'd never heard him use "ain't." The disarming smile, however, was the same in both universes. For some reason, that made her nervous. She'd always been comfortable with her Trip's Southern charm, which was honest and without guile. But she had the distinct impression that this version of him was pouring it on because he wanted something. Or maybe, she thought, her eyes narrowing, he was trying to cover something up.

"He's sleeping, but I think he's doing okay," Hoshi told him, hoping he wouldn't want to come in.

Her hopes were dashed as he brushed past her. She caught the strong smell of alcohol on his breath as he walked by. If he'd had a few drinks, that might explain his verbal mannerisms at the moment.

More alarming was his unsteady gait as he walked toward Archer where he lay in his bunk. Tucker was the first officer, in charge of the ship while the captain was recuperating, and he was drunk? Her Trip would never do that.

Could Tucker be the person behind Phlox's attempt to murder Archer? If that was so, he might have been drinking in disappointment because it hadn't been successful. Before Tucker's arrival at the cabin, she hadn't given serious thought to who might have put Phlox up to trying to poison Archer, other than as some faceless, nameless crew member. With a start, she realized that it hadn't occurred to her that one of the senior officers of this ship might want Archer dead. They were too similar to their counterparts, if only in appearance, that it hadn't entered her mind.

The sudden realization made Hoshi's heart race. Tucker could be here to finish Archer off himself. With her background in aikido, she was sure she could take Tucker easily, especially considering his inebriated state. Unfortunately, he was already between her and the captain. She had to do something now before he could do something to Archer. She started to move in that direction, but Dart beat her to it. The dog was on his feet between Tucker and Archer, growling and baring his teeth at the engineer.

"Damn!" Tucker muttered as he jumped back. Not taking his eyes from Dart, he said over his shoulder to her, "What's the dog's problem?"

Hoshi came up beside Tucker, giving Dart the hand motion to sit. The dog obeyed, but muted growls continued to come from him.

"He's probably being overly protective because his master is hurt," Hoshi said.

"Yeah," Tucker said, wiping his face with his hand. "He's never acted like this around me before, so that must be it."

"Maybe you ought to go," Hoshi suggested.

Tucker stared at Archer for a few more moments. "Yeah," he said at last. "I got to go by engineering and check on Kelby before I get up to the bridge anyway. Can't leave that boy alone for a moment. I'm beginnin' to wonder how he ever got through fleet training."

As he turned away, Hoshi caught of glimpse of Tucker's expression. Frustration didn't come close to describing it.

At the door, he turned back to her and said, "You take good care of him, ya hear?"

Hoshi nodded. With her new-found suspicion of him, she didn't trust herself to speak. She stood there, staring at the door after it closed behind him. She'd been aware that someone on board this ship wanted Archer dead. Until Tucker's visit, what she hadn't realized was that in this crazy, mixed-up universe, every single person on board was a potential suspect. From now on, she needed to be a lot more careful about who was on the other side of the door when she opened it.

Only in this universe, she told herself, would she wind up protecting a person she had been told had committed a cold-blooded murder from other murderers. But she had no choice. As far as she could tell, Archer was the key for her to return home.

* * *

Several hours later, Reed arrived. Much to Hoshi's relief, he had anticipated that Archer would need more painkillers as well as antibiotics.

"These were still in their original shipping containers in a storeroom off sickbay," he told her as he handed over two large metal cases. "Phlox either had no need yet to restock the medicine cabinet in sickbay, or he was too lazy to unpack them. The seals haven't been broken. They should be all right."

Hoshi broke the shipping seal on the first case and opened it. There had to be more than fifty cartridges of antibiotic packed securely in the case. She quickly opened the other case and found the same was true for a heavy-duty analgesic.

"Where's Mayweather?" Reed asked abruptly.

"Oh," Hoshi said as she shut the cases. "I sent him off to get some rest."

Archer groaned at that moment. Hoshi looked in his direction to see him moving restlessly under the sheet. He was probably waking up. She was suddenly glad that Reed was here. If Archer turned violent again, she'd need help restraining him.

She gathered up two of her prepared hyposprays. She wouldn't need the third one with the last of the antibiotic from the med kit; it was too soon to give him another injection of that. Archer groaned again as she knelt on the floor next to his bed. She was ready, a hypo of painkiller in one hand and the hypo with a sedative in the other, when Archer opened his eyes. His green eyes, hazed with pain, gradually focused on her.

"Didn't I tell you to get me something for the pain?" he rasped.

At least he didn't sound delirious. She pressed the tip of the hypospray with the painkiller to his neck, and pushed the button to inject its contents. Within seconds, he let out a long sigh and his facial muscles relaxed.

"Much better," he mumbled, his eyes drifting shut.

Hoshi placed a hand on his forehead. It felt cool but clammy. "I think your fever broke," she said. "That's good."

Archer opened his eyes to squint up at her. "I had a fever?"

"You don't remember smacking Mayweather around?" she asked.

From behind her, Reed uttered a startled, "What?" It was echoed a moment later by Archer.

Hoshi pushed herself to her feet and looked down at Archer. "You woke up and thought everyone was trying to kill you. Mayweather had to hold you down so you wouldn't hurt yourself."

Archer looked at her warily. "I don't remember that," he said faintly.

"It's a good thing T'Pol came by in the middle of all of it," she told him. "I had her nerve pinch you. Otherwise, I don't know how I would have gotten you to calm down."

Archer's startled exclamation was overriden by a loud snort from Reed, who said, "That explains why T'Pol looked more smug than usual on the bridge this morning."

Hoshi got Archer some water to drink, then checked his side. She removed the bandage, noting that the wound didn't look as puffy or red as it had the first time she'd changed the dressing. It also looked like the site was beginning to heal; there was no blood oozing from it like there had been last night.

Archer asked for a status report from Reed. She'd been so wrapped up in taking care of Archer that she hadn't once wondered what was happening with Panmikar and the battle between the Imperial and Andorian fleets. She listened as she cleaned and rebandaged the wound.

The Imperial forces had routed the Andorians who, after learning of the death of their chancellor, seemed to have lost their will to fight. Casualties among them had been high, but a few of their ships had managed to limp away. From the conversation between the two men, Hoshi got the impression that the usual practice would have been to destroy all the Andorian ships, but the Imperial forces had also taken a lot of damage. In addition to casualties among the four Terran ships, Reed reported that Hernandez's ship had been so badly damaged that it was being towed back to Earth.

"Damn!" Archer muttered. "I was hoping to avoid this."

Reed cocked his head. "Sir?"

Archer batted away Hoshi's hands where she was taping the fresh bandage in place. "Aren't you finished?"

With a wry smile, Hoshi picked up the scraps of old bandage. She moved off, putting away the items she'd used to redress his wound, but continued to listen as the topic of their conversation changed.

"Phlox is a stubborn one," Reed was saying. "He lasted two hours in the booth before he passed out."

"And he didn't tell you who put him up to trying to kill me?" Archer asked, irritability mixed with disbelief in his voice.

If he wasn't careful, he was going to work himself into another tizzy, Hoshi thought, and she would have to rebandage his side again.

"No," Reed replied. "Denobulan physiology is sufficiently different from humans that the booth doesn't work as effectively on him."

The more she heard about this booth thing, the less Hoshi liked it. It sounded like some type of torture device. Despite her dislike of the doctor, she felt sorry for him, especially after his obvious fear when he'd been caught trying to poison Archer. She had no doubt he'd been deathly afraid of whoever had coerced him to do it.

Archer grunted and shifted higher up on his pillows. "Where is he now?"

"He's in the brig under guard by combat troops." At Archer's sharp glance, Reed said, "I'm not worried about him escaping. But there may be an attempt on his life to keep us from finding out who really wanted you dead. Hence, the combat troops."

It took Hoshi a moment to figure out why Reed's own security staff weren't on guard duty. He must think some of his own men might be involved or could be subjected to the same coercion as Phlox had been. Combat troops, she recalled from her own universe, often were at odds with other branches of the military. From what she'd seen here, it was even more so, considering their segregation from the rest of the crew. Or perhaps it was simply that, unlike fleet personnel, the soldiers wouldn't have anything to gain if Archer was killed.

"You have a nasty, suspicious mind, Mister Reed," Archer said approvingly.

"Thank you, sir," Reed said with a hard smile. "But we do have a problem concerning the doctor. He's gone into hibernation." With a sneer of distaste, he added, "Aliens!"

Archer let his head flop back on the pillow. "Damn," he muttered. "How long does that last?"

Reed shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Six days is the usual cycle," Hoshi put in. When both men turned to look questioningly at her, she said, "I know because the Doctor Phlox where I come from had regular hibernation cycles." She paused. "Of course, the Denobulans here could be different."

Archer mulled that over. "For the time being, I think we can count on Phlox being unable to give us any answers." He looked at Reed. "See if you can find out who's responsible."

They continued to talk for a while, but Hoshi tuned them out. She had her own suspicions about who might be responsible, but she was hesitant to voice them. What if Tucker hadn't arranged to try to kill Archer? She'd been in this universe long enough to know that any accusation like that might result in irreversible harm, even death, for the engineer. She didn't like Tucker very much, but she didn't want to get him in trouble if she was wrong about him.

She'd wait until Reed left, then broach the subject with Archer.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: The plot gets even more twisted in this chapter. Thank you to all the readers who have been keeping up with this. I also appreciate the reviews! Thanks!

CHAPTER 29

Hoshi had no chance to talk to Archer about anything. Reed left just as Cunningham arrived with food. Then the steward had barely gone when Mayweather returned. If this kept up, Hoshi thought, she'd never get a chance to talk with Archer in private.

As it was, the effort of eating only a small amount of food seemed to exhaust Archer. He was asleep within minutes after he'd told her to take away the bed tray. Between his injury and the infection, she didn't want to deprive him of restorative sleep.

Maybe it was just as well she hadn't been able to talk to him. It gave her some time to organize her thoughts. The most important thing she needed to talk to him about was her suspicion that Tucker was the one who had orchestrated the attempt on his life. Her curiosity about the Andorian incident was going to have to take a back seat to keeping Archer safe, with her desire to know if he was responsible for murdering Zefram Cochrane a distant third. She had to get her priorities straight, she told herself. It was in her interest to find out who had tried to kill Archer. If he was dead, the other questions she had wouldn't matter.

She faced a long, boring day in the cabin with nothing to do. The way things were going, she thought dispiritedly, the highlight of her day was going to be giving Archer his next injection of antibiotic when evening rolled around.

She supposed she could nap since Mayweather was standing guard, but she wasn't sleepy. She didn't comprehend how he could stand there in one spot for hours on end. She'd go stir crazy if she had to do that. She was a little antsy as it was, but she at least could roam around this cabin as well as the adjacent one.

Her attempts to engage Mayweather in small talk were futile. He was back to his customary two-word answers, most of which were "Yes, ma'am," or "No, ma'am," although she did get one "I don't think so, ma'am," out of him when she'd asked if he'd like to play cards. The reproachful look he'd given her after that last response only reinforced that he took his job very seriously, and that no undue fraternization was allowed.

As long as he obeyed her orders, Hoshi decided, she didn't care if he talked or not. She could, however, do without feeling like she was under his constant surveillance. It was making her self-conscious.

The day dragged on.

She sat and petted Dart.

She stood and paced.

She dutifully ate lunch when Cunningham brought it, although she didn't have much of an appetite.

Archer roused once, asked for water, and promptly went back to sleep after drinking it. She touched his forehead; no fever.

The long day continued to drag on. She went back to pacing, trying not to bite her nails at the sheer frustration of being cooped up with nothing to do.

She wondered if, back in her universe, they'd searched for her and had given up. That thought scared her so much that she knew she had to find something to occupy her mind. Otherwise, she was going to be totally depressed by the end of the day.

Finally, she worked up the nerve to contact T'Pol via the intercom. "Could you have the transmissions I'm supposed to translate transferred to the computer terminal in the captain's cabin?" she asked.

Her inquiry was answered by a long silence. She was about to check to make sure the connection was still open when T'Pol replied.

"I will bring the recorded transmissions to you at the end of my shift. T'Pol out."

Hoshi looked in astonishment at the intercom panel. That had been strange. Just a few simple commands at T'Pol's console could have sent the transmissions to the computer terminal in the captain's cabin. Why would T'Pol want to hand-deliver them?

As she turned away from the intercom to resume pacing, Hoshi wondered if the transmissions were a convenient excuse for T'Pol to visit the captain's cabin. She recalled Reed's words: T'Pol was loyal to the captain, not because she wanted to be, but because she had to be.

Tucker would probably move up to captain if Archer was gone, but he wasn't the only one who would benefit from Archer's death. Hoshi began to wonder if T'Pol was the one behind the assasination attempt.

She suddenly realized that, while T'Pol had sifted through her memories in the meld and knew all about her, she herself couldn't say the same. She'd learned nothing about T'Pol in the meld. Because of her familiarity with Hoshi's thought processes, would T'Pol realize that Hoshi would eventually come to regard her as a suspect?

* * *

It was with some trepidation that Hoshi told Mayweather to allow T'Pol to enter the cabin.

The Vulcan took several steps into the room and stopped, her gaze going to Archer in his bunk on the far side of the cabin. "The captain appears to be resting comfortably," she said quietly. "Has his fever abated?"

"Yes," Hoshi said.

T'Pol turned to her and held out a data chip. "The transmissions." As Hoshi took the chip, T'Pol said, "You appear distressed."

Hoshi couldn't keep the surprise from her face at this personal comment from a Vulcan. It had taken many years for the T'Pol of her universe to be able to "read" human expressions accurately, especially the subtle ones, and she'd developed enough tact to know that it wasn't polite in most circumstances to comment about them. But then, Hoshi reminded herself, this T'Pol had probably learned early in her life to interpret human expressions as part of a defense mechanism employed by a species that humans considered inferior.

"It's been a long couple of days," Hoshi said vaguely.

T'Pol looked more closely at her. "That is not all that is bothering you."

Hoshi shot a look at Mayweather. As usual, the bodyguard was alert. He must have sensed something might be amiss, for his hand was on the butt of his pistol where it sat in his holster. Dart, on the hand, was calmly sitting next to Archer's bed, interested in the visitor, but apparently not concerned, in direct contrast to his reaction to Tucker.

Maybe she should accuse T'Pol outright of trying to murder Archer and see how she reacted. Between Mayweather and herself, they ought to be able to subdue her if anything happened. Surely she wouldn't try to kill Archer with two other humans present. If T'Pol tried and failed, her punishment would be swift and sure.

Hoshi took a step away from T'Pol, careful not to turn her back on the other woman. "I believe you have reason to get rid of Captain Archer."

T'Pol's face momentarily showed confusion, then cleared. "Ah. To 'get rid of,' you mean 'kill' him."

"Yes."

"No," T'Pol said, clasping her hands behind her back. "I do not have reason to want Captain Archer dead."

Now that the subject was out in the open, Hoshi wasn't going to back down, even if she didn't have specifics. "The captain has some hold on you, something that makes you obey. If he's gone, you would be free of whatever that is."

"As he is the captain of this ship, it is my duty as a fleet officer to obey him."

Hoshi didn't buy that argument. She looked askance at T'Pol.

"Very well," T'Pol conceded. "There is a reason that might be sufficient motivation for me to wish 'to get rid' of Captain Archer, but I would not do it."

"Why?" Hoshi pressed.

"It would not be logical to do so."

Hoshi almost rolled her eyes. She wasn't going to let T'Pol hide behind logic as a reason on its own. She'd have to ferret out the truth. T'Pol wasn't getting out of this cabin until she found out what it was.

"Sit down," Hoshi told her, indicating a chair at the table. When T'Pol was seated, Hoshi sat down across from her. "Explain."

T'Pol cast a sidelong glance at Mayweather, then looked back at Hoshi. "I cannot kill Captain Archer. While it is true that he holds my mother in a work camp to insure my obedience, that is not my major concern."

"He put your mother in a work camp?" Hoshi asked.

T'Pol stared at her. "From our conversations at lunch, I know such a concept is foreign to you. But your humans also had similar practices in the past. Considering your ancestry, I'm surprised you are not aware of it."

Just how much had T'Pol picked out of her brain in that meld? She had to be referring to interment camps where Japanese-Americans were held during World War II. If she remembered correctly, there were some Japanese-Americans who had served with distinction in the American military at the same time as their loved ones were stuck in those camps. That wasn't quite the same as the situation with T'Pol's mother, however. In all likelihood, given what she'd learned of this universe, T'Pol's mother might be killed if T'Pol tried anything like killing Archer. Those World War II soldiers, on the other hand, weren't coerced into military service by the threat of harm to their families.

"My mother is safe," T'Pol continued. "She has adequate food, clothing and shelter. She may not be happy in the human usage of the word, but her life has some purpose in that she is allowed to continue her work on scientific projects."

"And you like this arrangement?" Hoshi asked incredulously.

"I neither like nor dislike it," T'Pol said. "But it is the best that can be made of this situation for her. It is the same for me."

"How so?"

"I have risen to the rank of commander on the flagship of the Terran Imperial fleet. No other Vulcan, or member of any other alien species, has achieved or surpassed that. Why would I risk my privileged status, as well as the well-being of my mother, by killing the person who has made it possible?"

Hoshi could think of a number of reasons. "Resentment, anger, revenge."

"Those are human emotions," T'Pol said. "I do not allow emotion to rule my actions." At Hoshi's skeptical stare, the Vulcan added quietly, "You have only been in this universe a few weeks. I know how different it is from yours. Believe me when I say I envy you your universe. But this is my reality. I must live and work within the established parameters."

That had to be one of the saddest things Hoshi had ever heard a Vulcan say. Even more astounding, it had the ring of truth. She decided she believed T'Pol.

"I also have something I wish to discuss with you," T'Pol said. She cast a glance at Mayweather, then looked back at her. "In private."

Hoshi didn't want Mayweather to leave. The only other option was for her and T'Pol to leave. Yet she was reluctant to do so. That would mean Archer would be alone with Mayweather. Not that she didn't trust the bodyguard, but she hadn't told him of her suspicions about Tucker. What if the engineer showed up while she was gone? She shook her head. There was such a thing as being too careful. She opted for a compromise.

Getting to her feet, she said to Mayweather, "Keep an eye on the captain. We'll be in my cabin if you need me."

Mayweather acknowledged her order with a curt bob of his head. His hand, she noticed, was still on his pistol.

"Come on," she said to T'Pol, and led the way to the adjoining cabin.

After they'd gone into her cabin, Hoshi closed the door. She turned to face T'Pol, who had walked to the center of the room where she stood looking around at the furnishings.

"Now, what did you want to talk to me about?" Hoshi asked.

T'Pol focused on her. "I believe I know who is responsible for the attempt on Captain Archer's life."

That must be the reason T'Pol had wanted to bring the transmissions to her. She didn't want to kill Archer; it had been an excuse to talk to her alone, to warn her. "Who?" Hoshi asked sharply.

"I will tell you, but I ask that you take no action against the person I name, or inform the captain of what I tell you."

Hoshi gawked at her. That made no sense whatsoever, especially after all T'Pol's talk about how she couldn't kill Archer. Then she noticed the pinched look to T'Pol's face, and the almost pleading look in her eyes. Perhaps she'd been caught in a no-win position much as Phlox had been.

Before Hoshi could say anything, T'Pol dropped the biggest bombshell yet.

"In return," the Vulcan said, "I will help you return to your universe."


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Now we find out why, in part, that T'Pol is willing to help Hoshi get back home.

CHAPTER 30

Hoshi was momentarily speechless. There was a way to send her home? Even more shocking was that they hadn't told her it could be done.

"How long have you known this?" Hoshi finally asked.

"Not long," T'Pol said. "A few days. The process to send you back would take some effort, but it can be done, provided the conditions are right."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Hoshi demanded.

"Commander Tucker and I reported our findings to the captain. The captain ordered that you not be told."

Hoshi whirled to face the closed door, on the other side of which was the person who, for all intents and purposes, had been holding her captive. She remembered he'd told her that finding a way to send her back wasn't a high priority. Since then, she'd assumed that Tucker and T'Pol hadn't had a chance to look into it, that they'd been too busy with other things.

But she'd thought Archer would have told her when a way to do it had been found. "I wonder why he didn't want me to know."

"The captain did not explain his reasoning," T'Pol said. "However, if I were to hazard a guess, it would be that there is no Hoshi Sato in this universe. You have unique abilities that could benefit the captain's career. Your help in resolving the situation on Balanti IV comes to mind, as well as your expertise with covert communications which uncovered the Andorian plan to attack Panmikar. I suspect that your facility with languages, which is unparalled in this universe, is the original reason he installed you as his 'captain's woman,' if only in name."

Hoshi wasn't going to ask for more explanation on that last part. She had a good idea of what was expected of a full-fledged captain's woman; the closet full of skimpy clothing had been more than adequate explanation.

So, Archer had let the crew think she was his captain's woman because, while it had afforded her some protection, it was more for his benefit than hers. He had been keeping her close because he considered her a valuable commodity that had to be safeguarded. So valuable, in fact, that he'd assigned her a bodyguard.

She felt the first stirrings of anger. Didn't he think of her as a person, with her own needs and desires, foremost of which was that she wanted to go home?

She shook her head. She was being distracted from what was important. "You said you would help me return to my universe."

"If you keep your part of the bargain," T'Pol said, "yes."

That acknowledgement made Hoshi feel better. But it seemed strange that T'Pol was going to tell her who she thought had tried to kill Archer but didn't want the captain to know. "All right. Who do you think did it?"

T'Pol took a deep breath and looked away, her head hanging. In a human, her posture would have been a sign of shame. "I believe it is..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "...Commander Tucker."

She wasn't saying anything that Hoshi didn't already suspect. In fact, it only served to validate her own suspicions. But she needed to know why T'Pol thought Tucker was the guilty party. The first time she'd seen the two of them together, at her debriefing about the Xindi conflict, her impression had been that T'Pol detested Tucker. Her unVulcanlike demeanor now, however, suggested otherwise.

"I would think you would be pleased if Commander Tucker was no longer around," Hoshi said.

"Yes...and no."

If T'Pol had been human, Hoshi would have automatically added up her hesitancy, her obvious discomfort, and even her need to keep this conversation private, and come up with the reason for her behavior. Vulcans weren't the best at handling any emotions, however, much less the one Hoshi believed was afflicting T'Pol. It wasn't something that the Vulcans she knew discussed, except maybe in the abstract.

Hoshi almost felt sorry for T'Pol, but she had to ask. "You love Commander Tucker, don't you?"

T'Pol lifted her gaze to look almost defiantly at Hoshi. "It would be more accurate to say that I need him."

"Oh!" If Hoshi thought she'd been embarrassed when T'Pol had referred to her "in name only" status as captain's woman, the Vulcan woman must be humiliated to bring up the subject of pon farr. Mate or die was a burden Vulcans had to bear. Tucker must have helped her through that. That had to be what she was talking about.

"We have bonded," T'Pol told her. "Through that bond, I find that I can draw upon his innate ability, as a human, to control and identify emotions. I have difficulty doing that when surrounded daily by those with volatile emotions. I must not only control my own emotions, but understand those of others around me if I am to survive in the Terran Empire."

That didn't explain why T'Pol loved Tucker. "But--" Hoshi started to say, but T'Pol spoke over her.

"In having access to his thoughts, I have learned there are many admirable qualities about Commander Tucker. His devotion to duty, his love of family, even his ability to make friendships with others." A slight greenish blush stained her cheeks. "He has been kind to me at times."

And other times he hasn't, Hoshi thought, recalling the snide comments Tucker had made at the debriefing. She wondered if T'Pol could distinguish between Tucker's natural charm, which he could wield to get what he wanted, and genuine kindness.

T'Pol added a caveat. "He is, however, a product of this universe. He has many qualities that are not admirable."

Hoshi made the intuitive leap. "He forced Phlox to try to poison the captain."

There was a flicker of doubt in T'Pol's eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared. "I have no proof, but I believe that is the case. People who are bonded share thoughts. Lately, there have been many times when Commander Tucker has thought about advancing his position in the fleet. He resents that the captain hasn't seen fit to help him, considering what he has done to please the captain."

Curious, Hoshi asked, "What was that?"

"Commander Tucker killed Zefram Cochrane."

The surprises were coming almost too fast to comprehend. Hoshi sat in the nearest chair before her legs could give out. "He told me that the captain had done that himself."

"No," T'Pol said. "Commander Tucker had yet to meet either Zefram Cochrane or the captain when Henry Archer was killed, but his admiration for the captain's father led him to rash action. Afterward, he told the captain what he'd done. When _Enterprise _was commissioned a few years later, the captain remembered and rewarded him with the position of chief engineer."

"Tucker admitted doing this?" Hoshi asked.

"No." T'Pol averted her gaze. "I was curious about him when we bonded during pon farr."

Pon farr was a deeply private matter for Vulcans, and until now, T'Pol had verbally danced around actually mentioning it by name. By speaking of it aloud, Hoshi understood that T'Pol was trying to express how important it was in her belief that Tucker had arranged for Archer to be killed. She'd been curious about Tucker, so she'd peeped into his mind during pon farr. "I take it that the bonding involved a mind meld?"

"Yes," T'Pol said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I accessed his memories, and to this day, we retain a telepathic bond."

So she could telepathically pick up on what Tucker was thinking. When she considered that the bond might work both ways, Hoshi shot to her feet in alarm. "Can he tell what you're thinking right now?"

T'Pol shook her head. "No, I am able to easily shield my thoughts from him. At the most, he can tell my general location on the ship.

"But, I am aware of his thoughts," T'Pol continued. "Recently, there have been several occasions when his thinking was muddled, as if he were deliberately trying to make his thought processes more illogical than usual. But there were also two times in the last several days when I have been totally blocked." At Hoshi's quizzical glance, she added, "Humans can learn to block the meld connection. Commander Tucker has done it a few times when he didn't want me to know something he was doing." She paused. "I believe the most recent occurrences were when he was blocking me from obtaining knowledge of his attempt to kill the captain."

"Oh, boy," muttered Hoshi.

* * *

T'Pol left, exiting through the captain's cabin, after receiving assurances from Hoshi that she wouldn't inform Archer of their suspicions concerning Tucker. T'Pol also promised to bring a data chip with information about the process to send Hoshi back to her universe as soon as she could.

Hoshi remained for a time in her own cabin, pondering the things that T'Pol had told her.

Between the two of them, all they had were suspicions. In Hoshi's case, her interpretation of Tucker's behavior was subjective with no foundation in solid evidence. And as far as T'Pol's suspicion went, well, just because she hadn't been able to read Tucker's thoughts a couple of times didn't mean he was up to no good.

For all Hoshi knew, there could be another explanation, such as the effects of alcohol on the brain. Which made her wonder why Tucker had been drunk to begin with when he'd visited Archer's cabin. Maybe the pressure of being acting captain was getting to him. Or maybe he was worried that, if Archer was out of the way, he'd be next in line for assassination.

This universe was a terrible place to live. She couldn't wait to get back to her own universe where she trusted and respected the people with whom she worked. Now that she knew she could go back, it was almost impossible to think of anything else.

Still, it was good to know that Archer hadn't killed Zefram Cochrane. Hoshi tended to believe T'Pol on that count, although how much of that was due to the axiom in her own universe that Vulcans didn't lie, or because of T'Pol's obvious distress about Tucker. Knowing that Archer hadn't killed Zefram Cochrane made her a lot more comfortable sharing the adjacent quarters. But she still didn't know for sure who had tried to kill Archer, or what Archer had thought had gone wrong with his deal with Shran.

Until T'Pol gave her the information about the return process, the best Hoshi could do was keep protecting Archer. She was once again biding her time, but now she had an actual goal in sight.

She glanced at the chronometer. It was time to give Archer another injection of antibiotic.


	31. Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

Archer was still sleeping when Hoshi entered his cabin. She glanced at Mayweather, who impassively gazed back. No change on that front. When she got back to her universe -- not if, but when, she thought giddily -- she was never again going to be aggravated by her Travis's talkaholic tendencies.

She picked up the hypospray she'd loaded with antibiotic earlier, prepared another with painkiller, and went to kneel by Archer's bunk. He had been asleep since that morning; it was now into the evening hours. She considered trying to give him the injection without disturbing him, but it would probably be better to wake him up, see how he felt, and get some more food into him. She gently shook his shoulder.

His hand shot up and grabbed hers.

"Hey!" She tried to wrest her hand away, but his grip only tightened. "Would you let go, please?"

He opened his eyes, focused on her, and let go.

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her bruised hand. "That's no way to treat someone who's trying to help you."

He regarded her. After a moment, his green eyes lost some of their hardness. "Sorry." He shifted in the bed, pushing himself up against the pillows so that he was in a semi-reclining position. "Can't be too careful."

She held up the hypos. "Time for another antibiotic shot, and a painkiller if you need it," she told him. "Then I want to check your side." At his nod, she held the first hypo to his neck and pressed the button to inject the contents. When he gestured toward the second hypo, she applied the painkiller.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

He shifted slightly on the bed and grimaced. "Sore."

She drew the sheet down to his waist and carefully removed the bandage. There were definite signs of improvement since the last time she'd changed the bandage. She gingerly touched the area around the site with her fingertips.

"Ow!" he said, glaring at her. "Do you have to do that?"

She made a noncommittal noise and said, "The inflammation is going down. The antibiotic seems to be working."

"Thank you, Doctor Sato," he said sarcastically.

How like this man to be so ungrateful, she thought as she began putting a new dressing on the wound. "With your doctor in the brig for trying to kill you, and not trusting anyone else on this ship, you ought to be glad I'm taking care of you," she said tartly.

His tight features relaxed somewhat at her words, and he actually smiled. His next words further disarmed her. "You're right. I appreciate what you've done."

She glanced at his face as she taped the dressing in place. He was watching what she was doing with a slightly bemused expression. Her Captain Archer sometimes wore the exact same expression, and it never failed to amuse her. With a start, she realized she was beginning to think kindly of this version of the man.

_Stop it! _she told herself. She was just taking care of him until he was better and she could go back to her own universe. It was in her best interest that he stay alive until she could get out of here, so of course she had to protect him. But she wondered how much of her current sympathetic reaction was due to her knowledge that she didn't have to be here much longer, and how much to the fact that she'd stopped thinking of him as a murderer. And how much, she finally admitted to herself, that he was a handsome man.

"I'm starved," Archer said. "Get Cunningham to bring me something to eat."

That was more like the Archer of this universe, she thought wryly, ordering people around without so much as a please or a thank you. But it was a good sign that his health was improving if his appetite was returning.

"Aye, aye, Captain," she retorted, but her tone was softened by a tolerant smile. "Oh, there's someone who wants to see you."

She walked over to the door between their cabins and opened it. Out bounded Dart, who ran straight to his bed. It was a good thing she'd been prepared for the dog's reaction, because she managed to grab him by his collar. Otherwise she believed that Dart, in his joy at seeing his master awake, would have leaped right onto into the bed with Archer. Then she'd be bandaging him up again.

* * *

Archer, petting Dart, watched Sato put away the med kit and then go to the intercom to order some food. Mayweather was stationed by the door, but like any good bodyguard, he could blend into the background, easy to overlook, until he was needed.

He sighed, trying to find a comfortable position. Damn that Shran! Considering that the Andorian had ignored the deal they'd worked out, he should have anticipated that Shran would try to kill him. Hadn't Sato told him that Shran had managed to kill himself in the process? Yes, he remembered, she had told him, shortly before the doctor's abortive attempt to kill him.

It was Gral all over again. That stupid Tellarite hadn't given him a chance to save him, and neither had Shran. He'd had it all planned out, how to bring the Andorians, a serious threat to stability in the empire, into joint leadership with humans, only to see if all go down the drain because of Shran's short-sightedness. If anything, Shran had been even greedier than some of the humans in positions of power in the empire.

The only good thing about the situation is that no one knew that he'd been seeking an alliance with Shran, and therefore, no one knew that he had failed. If word ever got back to fleet command, his lifespan would suddenly shrink to only as long as it would take for his public execution to be arranged.

It was his bad luck that someone among his crew had tried to finish what Shran had started. If there was one constant in the Imperial fleet, it was that you got kicked when you were down. He wasn't surprised Phlox had been the one to try to kill him. For all his gruff exterior, the Denobulan could be easily intimidated. No, the surprise had been that Phlox had conveniently gone into hibernation, thereby making it impossible to get him to divulge who had put him up to it. Until he found out who had planned his demise, he was going to have to be extra careful.

"Would you like me to take that bandage off your head? I don't think you need it any more."

Sato was standing near his bed, looking down at him. His head? He reached up, his hand encountering the bandage above his left eye. "I forgot about that," he said. Now that she had called his attention to it, it itched like the dickens. "Take it off."

Sato made to kneel again on the deck next to his bed, but he put out a hand to stop her. "You'd probably be more comfortable sitting on the bed." At her raised eyebrow, he added, "I know better than to bite the hand that bandages me."

With an amused smile, she carefully sat on the edge of his bed, leaning over to reach the bandage. As close as they were, he couldn't help but notice how tired she looked. And yet, there was a sparkle in her eyes that had been missing the last several days. Could she be pleased that he was getting better? Then his cynical side reasserted itself. Of course she'd be happy that he was recovering. If he wasn't around, she'd be facing the equivalent of being thrown to the sharks.

The door chime rang just as she removed the bandage. Mayweather looked to him for permission to open the door. Anticipating Cunningham's arrival with his food, Archer lifted a hand to indicate it was all right. To his hungry stomach's disappointment, however, it wasn't his steward who entered, but his tactical officer.

"Good evening, sir," Reed said to him. His gaze shifted to Sato sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Mister Reed," Archer answered. He watched Reed watch Sato as she moved away. In a surprisingly brief time, Reed's attention returned to him. There was no trace of the officer's usual lasciviousness around members of the opposite sex. He'd only seen Reed like this once before. That had been when Captain Hernandez had made several visits to _Enterprise _before her own ship had been commissioned. At the time, Archer had chalked it up to Reed's respect of persons of rank. Well, persons of rank who actually deserved their rank. Hernandez, as he knew, had to be extremely competent to be worthy of her own command. Reed respected that, for he didn't tolerate incompetency. Sato must have done something to garner his respect as well.

Unusual, but nothing worth commenting on, Archer decided. Not when there were more important matters at hand. As long as Reed was here, he might as well get a status report while he was waiting for his food. "Do we have new orders?" he asked Reed.

"Back on course for the asteroid field at fleet command's orders," Reed said. "All ship's systems operating at or above normal parameters."

Archer groaned. Despite the debacle that had happened, he'd saved Panmikar. Some recognition should have been appropriate for quelling a rebellion and saving a colony world. But had fleet command seen fit to reward him? No. He was being shunted off to some out-of-the-way place. Again. Not that he expected accolades. Well, he did, to some extent. He was in command of the flagship of the fleet, after all. He didn't understand why his orders from command didn't reflect that status. Both he and the empire would be much better served by sending _Enterprise _somewhere like the Klingon border where skirmishes were being reported with increasing frequency. Instead, they kept sending him back to that damned asteroid field and its twice-damned anomalies.

It was enough to make him wonder if someone at fleet command had figured out his private long-range goals. He'd never told anyone, however, so that was impossible.

"Where's Commander Tucker?" he asked.

Reed snickered. "Stuck to the command chair on the bridge."

Archer nodded, a harsh chuckle escaping him. "When is he going to learn that there is only one captain on a starship?"

"He wants his own starship," Reed said.

"Well, he's not getting mine," Archer said harshly, eliciting a growl from Dart, who was lying next to the bed. "The sooner he realizes that, the better." He looked at Sato. "Where's that food?"

She frowned at him. She didn't say anything, but she went to the com panel by the door. Before she could open a connection to page Cunningham, the door chime rang. "That must be it," she said to no one in particular.

She did, however, stay out of the way while Mayweather opened the door. She's learning, Archer thought. They still didn't know who had tried to kill him. It was best not to take any chances, although he seriously doubted anyone would tackle him in his own cabin.

Mayweather opened the door. Cunningham, holding a tray with several covered dishes, was waiting in the corridor.

"Over here," Archer said, waving the man in.

Sato helped him sit up higher in the bed as Cunningham bustled around the cabin, getting the bed tray from the closet and transferring a couple of covered dishes to it, then placing it over Archer's lap. The steward lifted the lids with a flourish.

"Soup?" Archer asked peevishly. "And gelatin?"

"Invalids shouldn't eat a heavy diet," Cunningham informed him.

"I am not an invalid!" Archer barked. "Get me some real food before I die from starvation."

Cunningham's face fell.

Behind Cunningham, Archer could see Sato lifting the lids of the other items on the tray. The scent of charboiled steak wafted across the cabin, making him lick his lips. Before he could say anything, Sato picked up the plate she'd just uncovered, brought it over, and put it on his bed tray. That was more like it, Archer thought, looking at the plate which held not only a steak, but a baked potato dripping with butter.

He reached for the fork and knife, aware that Sato had gently pulled Cunningham away from his bed and was showing him to the door.

"Don't mind him," he heard Sato tell Cunningham. "He's always grumpy when he's almost been killed."

An amused snort came from Reed. Over by the door, there was a smile on Mayweather's face. Archer's eyes narrowed. What had she been up to in the short time he'd been incapacitated to make some of his crew act like this? Making fun of their captain? If he wasn't so hungry, he'd put them all on report. He cut into the steak and put a piece in his mouth.

Sato turned around after showing Cunningham out to face him. The angry look on her face, so unlike her, made him stop in mid-chew.

"That man is one of the few people on this ship you can trust," she lectured him. "He's just trying to take care of you, and you return the favor by yelling at him and hurting his feelings. All I can say is you better eat that whole steak, or I'm going to shove it down your throat."

He watched, astonished at her audacity, as she calmly sat down at the table and began eating the soup that had been intended for him.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: I know I sound like a broken record, because I keep saying it, but I really do appreciate the reviews. Thank you, all of you, who take the time to do that. Now, on with the story.

CHAPTER 32

The steak was good. Archer was going to finish it, even though his hunger was sated by the time he'd eaten half of it. The mood Sato was in, he wouldn't put it past her to have Mayweather and Reed hold him down while she force-fed him the rest of it. He almost wished she'd try; she'd find out who was in charge then -- as if she didn't know. She was only acting this way because she thought he wouldn't do anything about it.

On that score, he reluctantly admitted, she was probably right. Despite sleeping most of the day, his eyelids felt increasingly heavy. He didn't want to expend any unnecessary energy arguing with her. He rarely was sick, and the few times he'd been injured, he'd hated the recuperation period. The time he spent lounging around waiting to heal felt wasted.

Still, he had to admit that she had taken good care of him, so he'd let her have her moment of self-righteous indignation. That didn't stop him, however, from slipping a few pieces of steak to Dart, who had his snout strategically positioned at the edge of his bed near the tray.

As he ate, he analyzed his reaction. Really, he ought to be angry with her. He probably would be, he realized, if he hadn't been so astounded at her outburst. In addition, since he had been seriously wounded and therefore was under the effects of antibiotic and painkiller, he definitely wasn't up to par.

Reed and Mayweather had seemed as amazed as he was by her attitude. Mayweather's eyes were still wide as he watched over everything, but it was hard to tell if the man was shocked or amused; the combat troops were conditioned to give little outward reaction to anything. And Reed, who was a law unto himself and whom he would have expected to have done something to put her in her place, had instead watched the whole proceedings with that irritating smirk of his. He had enjoyed seeing Sato tell him off.

As for Sato, she was calmly eating the soup and the gelatin that was to have been his meal. Not once did she look at him. He was still working on his steak when she finished.

"If you don't need anything, I'm going to get some sleep," she said, getting to her feet. She glanced meaningfully at his plate, then at him.

He stared at her in his most intimidating fashion, narrowing his eyes and scowling. She didn't flinch. In fact, she didn't do anything, other than to roll her eyes before she turned and walked away.

As she went into her cabin and closed the door, he found himself thinking that maybe he'd been wrong about her. Maybe she did have what it took to be a real captain's woman. As he fed a few more pieces of steak to Dart, he told himself that was for the future. Right now he had much more important matters upon which to concentrate.

"With your permission, sir?" Mayweather said from his post near the door.

Archer looked over at him and nodded, and the bodyguard left. He was a little puzzled why Mayweather had been here; he was supposed to be off duty when Sato was in their quarters. He sighed around a bite of baked potato as he thought. There was a lot going on that he didn't understand since he'd woken up after being injured.

For instance, why was Reed here? Since the man was still loitering, he might as well get some work done. "Have we received any directives from command about what is planned for the Andorians?" he asked.

"No, sir," Reed said with a curt shake of his head. He thought a moment, then qualified his answer with, "At least, not that I'm aware of."

"What do you mean by that?" Archer asked.

"Commander Tucker has become rather secretive since you've been injured," he answered. "More so since the attempt on your life has become common knowledge."

That could be more of Tucker just being Tucker, Archer thought, or it could be something else entirely. "Any luck finding out who had Phlox try to poison me?"

A look of chagrin passed over Reed's face. "No, sir. As much as I'd like to, I can't go around picking random crew members for interrogation sessions in the booth. It's not good for morale."

"Ah, the fine line between discipline and grounds for mutiny," Archer murmured.

"Exactly, sir." Reed paused. "Right now, while I'm waiting for Phlox to come out of hibernation, all I can do is wait and see if there is another attempt on your life. Then, hopfeully, we can catch the person in the act."

"Hopefully?" Archer raised an eyebrow. Not what he would have liked to hear, but Reed had a point. Unless the perpetrator made a move against him, and if Phlox couldn't be convinced to talk, they might never know who it was. He suddenly realized why Reed was here with him, and why Mayweather had been here earlier when he didn't need to be. "You and Mayweather, and her to some extent--" He jerked his head toward the door between the cabins. "--are taking turns guarding me, aren't you, hoping whoever it is tries again, aren't you?"

Reed merely smirked.

Archer carefully pushed himself up straighter in the bed. Soreness radiated out from the wound, making him wince, and reminding him of how he had been wounded. "I should have said something to Mayweather before he left. I need to give him a commendation for getting me off Shran's ship."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it, sir," Reed said, "but I doubt he will accept it unless the other person who was responsible for saving your life is also commended. You know how the combat troops are. 'All for one, and one for all,' or some such nonsense."

Archer looked sharply at Reed. His comments were matter-of-fact, not sarcastic or cynical. His features were carefully bland; he wasn't talking about himself. "Who else was responsible?"

Reed looked to the door connecting the two cabins. "She was, sir."

_No way_, Archer thought. His meek little translator? At his urging, Reed gave a succinct account of what Mayweather had told him had happened after the explosion on Shran's ship, including Sato's emergency treatment of his injuries. When Reed reached the part where Sato provided covering fire not only for Mayweather carrying him to the airlock, but for the other members of his escort and the two pinned-down soldiers as well, Archer held up his hand.

"You're telling me she single-handedly is responsible for all members of the boarding party stuck on Shran's ship getting back on _Enterprise _safely?" he asked incredulously.

"Pretty much, sir." At Archer's dubious look, Reed added, "I saw most of what happened in the crossfire area. She handled herself very well. She's no slouch with a phase pistol. Handled it like a pro." He paused. "But then, apparently she learned all that from an expert."

Archer stared at his tactical officer, who looked inordinately pleased with himself. "Your counterpart in her universe," he said as comprehension dawned.

Reed nodded. "My estimation of humans in her universe went up considerably when she told me that."

Archer stared at the man a moment longer, started to laugh, then stopped with a groan as the area around his wound complained at the movement caused by his laughter.

* * *

_Whew!_ Hoshi thought as she shut the door behind her. She would have been willing to bet that Archer would have bitten her head off for reading him the riot act. To tell the truth, she'd been rather surprised herself by her outburst over his rudeness toward Cunningham, but the poor steward had only been doing his job. Cunningham was one of the few people who could be trusted with the captain's life. Didn't Archer realize that?

It was one of the few times she'd seen Archer speechless. Maybe she should have stood up to him when she first got here. Well, when she got her memory back, she amended. But ever since then, she'd been trying to figure out this universe, not to mention wanting to _get out _of this universe. So much was like her _Enterprise _that it was disconcerting in the extreme. Every day she'd find out something new that was different, which would throw her off balance. Or circumstances beyond her control would happen, like that whole mess with Shran, which she was still curious about.

It was all very confusing, what with someone trying to kill Archer on top of everything else. But there was one thing she was sure of: Nothing was going to keep her from getting back home. As soon as T'Pol gave her the information, she might just tell Archer that she knew there was a way to do it, and that she'd rather die than stay in his universe. Not that she'd reached that point yet, but he didn't need to know that. She'd have to put some of the skills at bluffing she'd developed during her poker games while in Starfleet training to use.

The knowledge that there was a way to go back where she belonged was beyond intoxicating. For the first time in days, she felt like she had some control over her life. Out of sheer happiness, she spun in a circle, her arms thrown open wide. Laughing, she stopped before she became dizzy. She really needed to calm down if she was to get any sleep.

Her gaze fell on the bed in her cabin. She'd never noticed before that the green comforter matched the shade of Archer's eyes. She wouldn't have put it past him to have picked it out himself for that very reason. Such an ego!

And yet, as she made her way to the bathroom to shower before going to bed, she realized that someone in his position in this universe had to have a big ego, and confidence in his abilities, in order to survive. She'd give him that, but he didn't have to be so rude.

As she stripped off the lavender jumpsuit, she felt the tiniest twinge of guilt that she thought so poorly of him. He'd given her this jumpsuit and the similar teal one as a reward for resolving the Balantian situation. He hadn't had to do that. It was a sign that he respected her abilities.

Now if she could just get him to respect her wishes, and send her home.

* * *

Muffled sounds came from a corner of engineering. He had to be careful, lest anyone be curious about what he was doing. By all rights, everyone should be happy if he could see this through. But if he was caught, he knew no one would stand with him. That's just the way things worked on an Imperial starship.

The latest incident with the Andorians only proved his point. No one, including himself, understood why Archer had insisted on talking to Shran. They should have destroyed that ship as soon as they were in range. But no, Archer had to go over there and about get himself blown up. Everything had fallen apart after that. The Andorian fleet had attacked the Imperial ships guarding Panmikar, and a lot of his friends serving on those ships had been killed or hurt. If Archer had ordered _Enterprise _to fight instead of trying to talk to Shran, that could have been avoided.

And now they were back to studying space anomalies in that asteroid field again, probably as punishment for Archer having screwed up. What good was that?

Archer had become weak. It was why he'd forced that disgusting Phlox to help him. No one would suspect a Denobulan, especially one who was a doctor. Despite being aliens, they had a reputation as being trustworthy. If it hadn't been for that woman from the other universe somehow figuring out what Phlox was going to do, all the senior officers would be enjoying the benefits of his plan.

He cursed as his hand slipped on the tool he was using.

Once he rid _Enterprise _of Archer, everything would change. He'd also make sure Phlox was taken care of before he came out of hibernation. But even if he didn't kill Phlox, if Archer was out of the way by then, everyone would be happy to move up in rank, and he seriously doubted he'd face any serious punishment. Incompetent captains had been removed before, and fleet command tended to look the other way because the admirals were saved the inconvenience of dealing with it themselves.

He put the finishing touches on the device he was making. He'd done a good job with it. No one would suspect the simple item to be other than what it looked like -- a common salt shaker, identical to those in the mess hall.

He smiled. There was an old saying about good things coming in small packages. In this case, it was going to be good for him.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: If this chapter had a title, it would be The Calm Before The Storm, or maybe Parade of Suspects. Again, thanks for the reviews!

CHAPTER 33

"Commander Tucker? What are you doing here, sir?"

Tucker, letting his annoyance show on his face, turned to Kelby. The audacity of the man -- asking what he, the chief engineer, was doing in engineering. He might be the acting captain at the moment, but he wasn't about to neglect anything that had to do with the smooth operation of the ship.

How the lieutenant had ever wrangled an assignment on the flagship of the Imperial fleet was beyond him. Kelby must have a relative in a high place, because his commission certainly wasn't due to engineering proficiency. The things he had to put up with in the name of Imperial politics, Tucker thought with a scowl.

"Kelby," he growled. "Just checkin' on engineerin' before headin' up to the bridge. Status of the warp engine?"

Kelby stuttered his way through a report. As Tucker had suspected, Kelby was woefully behind. Maintenance on the backup plasma relays should have been finished yesterday, but according to the duty roster, two engineering crewmen were still working on it. And the warp condensers were operating at below-normal power levels. That should have been caught right away.

If it weren't for the fact that he needed to be on the bridge in the next ten minutes, Tucker would see to it himself about getting engineering back up to snuff. As it was, all he had time for was to give Kelby a good ass chewing for his shoddy running of the department in his absence and the threat of being put on report if it continued.

As Tucker stalked away from the chastised younger engineer, he told himself it was only for a few more days. By then, Archer would either be well on the road to recovery, or dead. Either way, Kelby would be sent packing.

* * *

T'Pol, seated at the science station despite being in charge of the bridge for the night shift, sat up straighter. Through her bond with Tucker, she could sense that he was thinking about Archer. Perhaps he was planning another attempt on the captain's life. The chaotic, angry emotions that came through the link would seem to support that supposition.

She closed her eyes and mentally recited a brief calming mantra. Tucker had demonstrated that he was sometimes aware of her presence in his mind, so as cautiously as possible, she opened the link wider. But she was too late. His thoughts had already turned to his duties on the bridge, and his anticipatory pleasure at seeing her there.

She felt an unVulcanlike flush of pleasure of her own at that thought, followed quickly by shame. She shouldn't be reacting to him this way, especially since the probability was high that he'd tried to kill their commanding officer.

But tapping into his thoughts had alerted her to his imminent arrival on the bridge. She slipped the data chip she'd prepared for Sato into a small pocket in her uniform trousers. It wouldn't do to let Tucker see it, for he'd want to know what it was. And while it wasn't necessarily true that Vulcans couldn't lie, her bond with Tucker made it much harder for her to hide anything from him than from the average human.

* * *

Ensign Freeman took his place at the communications station at the beginning of alpha shift. Commander Tucker had seen fit to take him off report and allow him to return to duty. It was good to be back, and best of all, there was no sign of that impertinent bitch who'd taken over his job.

A few of the bridge crew members had looked curiously at him as he'd strode out of the turbolift. A glare from him had made them mind their manners. He didn't know why they were surprised to see him; this was where he rightfully belonged.

That Sato person didn't have a place on an Imperial starship. Fleet command wouldn't stand for it. She wasn't even from this universe. She was too much of an unknown, no matter how much the captain favored her.

As far as he was concerned, the captain had gotten his comeuppance. Too bad he hadn't been killed in that explosion. It would have served him right for the way he'd treated him, the lead communications officer. Then there had been the attempted poisoning. He'd heard how that witch had stepped in again and caught Phlox; it was all everyone was talking about. That, and the fact that she'd saved some of the combat troops' miserable lives before they got off the Andorian ship.

Despite what the captain thought of him, he did have useful skills. That's how he'd found out Sato was the topic of quite a few conversations around the ship, including in the combat troop quarters. Shut up in his own quarters after she'd usurped his position on the bridge, he'd tapped into the internal comm grid and had eavesdropped around the ship. There were a few places he couldn't tap into -- the captain's cabin, for instance, and what he wouldn't give to be able to listen in there -- but the places he could had provided him with a wealth of gossip to listen to.

If they did get another captain, he thought, it would be like starting over. A new captain assigned by fleet command would be unaware of how he'd been humiliated in front of the entire bridge crew. Or if it was someone promoted from the current crew, they probably wouldn't care, since they'd been bumped up in rank.

Cheered by that thought, Freeman settled in at his console.

* * *

Cunningham was finishing up breakfast preparations. He wasn't looking forward to going back to the captain's cabin to deliver the meal, not after he'd been yelled at the night before. But, he reasoned, people who were sick or hurt sometimes lashed out in their frustration. He knew he hadn't done anything wrong, but the incident, still fresh in his mind, had been upsetting. He'd been with the captain for years, and never once had he given Archer any reason to be displeased.

At least the captain's woman seemed to understand. She really cared about the captain, he could tell. Very protective, that one. She'd taken a moment to reassure him that everything was all right. Not many among the crew would have done that.

True, he'd been scared when she'd practically accused him of trying to poison the captain's food. But she had probably been just as upset as he was that someone had tried to kill the man. She was right to take every precaution. He would have done the same in her position.

And that had been good advice she'd given him. He'd been extra careful since then that he was the only one involved in the preparation of any food for Archer's consumption. Cook hadn't been too happy that he'd been getting food directly out of stores instead of going through him, but that's the way it was going to be. Cunningham had the captain's authority backing him. If anyone had a problem with that, he'd tell them to go talk to the captain's woman. He was sure she'd set them straight.

He added the last few items to the tray. Breakfast today was scrambled eggs and bacon. The captain liked a lot of seasoning on his eggs, so he made sure to put salt and pepper shakers on the tray.

* * *

Hoshi woke that morning with a feeling of confidence that she hadn't experienced since arriving in this universe. She stretched, savoring the relaxation that resulted from having had a full night of undisturbed sleep, and the anticipation that, in a short time, maybe only a few days, she might be back where she belonged.

In the privacy of her cabin, she smiled broadly. She couldn't do that in front of Archer; he'd become suspicious and wonder at the change in her attitude. If he realized she knew she could go home, he'd want to know who had told her. And since T'Pol had agreed to help her, the last thing she wanted was for the Vulcan to get in trouble for telling her something Archer had specifically forbidden.

She glanced at the chronometer. Cunningham should be along soon with breakfast, so she should get up and get dressed. It was also about time for another painkiller injection for the captain, if he needed it.

Maybe today T'Pol would bring the data about sending her back home, she thought as she swung her legs out of bed. She could hardly wait to see it. She hoped she could make sense of it, but if it was composed of a lot of technical and scientific jargon, she might have difficulty. She'd have to take it on faith that the T'Pol here, just like the one back home, knew what she was doing.

The process, whatever it was, would be much easier if they didn't have to sneak around behind Archer's back to do it. She again considered telling him that she wanted to go home, and if he didn't agree, maybe it was time to play her only card: Offer to upgrade the UT in exchange for sending her back. And yet, there was a niggling fear that even if Archer did agree to such a deal, he wouldn't honor it.

She might have become more kindly disposed toward the man during the last few days, especially after finding out that he hadn't killed Zefram Cochrane, but that didn't mean she trusted him, she thought wryly.

Then an idea occurred to her that burst her upbeat mood as surely as a pin stuck in a balloon. In exchange for her silence, she could blackmail the person who had tried to kill Archer into helping send her home. That she'd even thought of that was reason enough for her to get out of this universe before she was totally corrupted. Besides, she thought in disgust, that person might just turn around and kill her.

One step at a time, Hoshi told herself. First she had to look at the data. In the meantime, she'd continue as she had been, taking care of Archer and trying to keep both him and herself safe.

Before changing, she stepped over to the door between the cabins. She opened it far enough to see into the other room and peered in. Archer was asleep in his bunk, Dart curled up at the foot of the bunk. The dog lifted his head and looked at her, but didn't get up.

She let her gaze cross the room toward the door to the corridor. The sight of Reed sprawled on his back where he was sleeping on the couch, eyes closed but mouth wide open, almost made her laugh out loud. He must have spent the night on guard duty. At least now she did know that he did actually sleep. She had been beginning to wonder.

Reed suddenly let out a loud snort and, without waking, rolled over and settled more comfortably, making small grunting noises the entire time.

One hand over her mouth, she quietly shut the door with her other hand. She made it to her bathroom before she burst out laughing.

* * *

Reed yawned and rubbed his eyes. A quick glance around the captain's cabin revealed that all was as it had been when he'd fallen asleep, but he could have sworn a noise had woken him.

He chalked it up to the dreams he sometimes had. Nightmares were more like it. But he was a firm believer in what didn't kill him made him stronger, and so while he didn't like having nightmares, they no longer had the power to frighten him as they once did.

He looked over at Archer. The captain appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He could see the slow rise and fall of the man's chest with his breathing. It was almost unbelieveable that the man was still alive. First the explosion, then the attempt on his life in sickbay. But one thing Reed had realized early on in his career in the fleet was that Jonathan Archer seemed to have a charmed life. It was one of the reasons he'd stuck by the man for so long. That, and the man would treat others fairly -- well, at least more fairly than other captains in the fleet -- as long as they played fair by him.

Now if he could just keep Archer alive long enough to find out who had tried to kill him.


	34. Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

Hoshi saw that she had timed it perfectly as she walked into Archer's cabin. Cunningham had just arrived with breakfast, and Reed was up and looked like he was ready to leave. In keeping with their agreement that the captain needed to be guarded at all times by people who could be trusted, the tactical officer was probably waiting for Mayweather to arrive before he left. Until then, Hoshi would just have to put up with him, although the last day or two, he hadn't been nearly as bad as during her first interactions with him.

The captain also was awake and looking much better. Some of the color had returned to his face, and the pinched look around his eyes had lessened considerably. He was irritable with Cunningham, however, telling the steward to set a place at the table for him because he didn't want to eat in bed. Cunningham, though, wasn't giving in.

She moved to Archer's bedside before there was a repeat of the evening before. Honestly, it reminded her of nothing so much as a group of children who couldn't play well together unless an adult was present. "Let's see how your wound is doing first," she told Archer, "then we'll see if you're up to getting out of bed."

Archer shot her a disgruntled look. "Fine."

He was definitely feeling better, Hoshi thought, but he still wasn't quite his old self. He would have argued with her if he had been. She also could have done without Reed watching every move she made like a hawk, but that was the way he was, she supposed. At least he wasn't making any smart-aleck remarks.

"Sleep well?" she asked Archer as she removed the bandage from his side.

"Yes," he said shortly.

She took a good look at the wound. "You're either an incredibly fast healer, or there's something in with the antibiotic that promotes healing. It's looking much better." She wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to move around a lot yet, but maybe he could convince himself of that. She twisted around where she was sitting on the bed so she could look at Cunningham. "Go ahead and set a place at the table for the captain."

She rebandaged the wound, then stood aside to let Cunningham help Archer up, while Reed watched the proceedings with an amused smirk. Once on his feet, Archer shrugged off the steward's assistance and made it under his own power to the table, although his face had lost most of its color and he was breathing heavily by the time he reached his chair.

Hoshi took her seat across from him. He hadn't complained, but he looked terrible. "Would you care for a painkiller appetizer?" she asked him coyly as Cunningham took the lids from the plates.

"Damn right I would," came the muttered answer.

Hoshi, hiding a smile, got up and went to the stack of medical supplies on a shelf. As she was loading a hypospray with painkiller, the door chime rang. Reed cautiously opened the door. He stepped back, allowing Mayweather to enter.

Archer's appetite apparently hadn't been affected by his short but arduous trek across the cabin, for he was sprinkling pepper on a heaping serving of scrambled eggs. The salt shaker, however, was giving him trouble. He complained to Cunningham, "Nothing is coming out." He slammed the shaker on the table, trying to free up the salt inside.

Hoshi returned to the table. "Would you hold still so I can do this?" she asked him, holding the hypo to his neck.

Archer stopped grappling with the shaker so that Hoshi could inject the painkiller. Cunningham took the opportunity to deftly swipe the shaker from Archer's hand.

"Sir, with your permission, I'll leave now," Reed put in.

Archer waved in the general direction of the door, giving his permission for Reed to leave.

Cunningham also tried hitting the salt shaker against the tabletop, but still nothing came out. "I don't understand. It was fine when I got it out of the pantry in your private kitchen, sir." He unscrewed the cap and looked inside. "Sir?" he said tremulously.

Alerted by the strained tone of the steward's voice, both Archer and Hoshi looked at him. Even Reed, one foot out the door, stopped and turned around to see what was happening. Cunningham, staring at the inside of the shaker, had gone deathly white.

Still peevish, Archer asked, "What is it now, Cunningham?"

"There's..." The steward swallowed, and tried again. "There's something inside that shouldn't be there. I'm afraid to move, sir, for fear of setting it off."

Reed hurried to Cunningham's side. He peered down at the salt shaker in the steward's hand. "It is a bomb all right," he said calmly as he visually appraised the contents of the shaker. He reached in with one finger and snagged a wire, pulling one end of it out of the shaker.

Cunningham finally pulled his gaze from the shaker, only to stare at Reed with wide, frightened eyes.

Reed took the shaker from him. "Don't worry. If it was going to go off, it would have done so by now, what with all the banging you two have been doing to it."

Archer was glaring at Cunningham.

"Honestly, sir," Cunningham said, "I don't know how that got in there. I specifically checked the shakers, because I know you like to put salt and pepper on your eggs, and I wanted to make sure they were full. I swear on my life that the salt shaker hasn't been out of my sight since I put it on the tray with your breakfast!"

It looked like Archer was going to explode. All the color that had left his face earlier had come rushing back, tingeing his cheeks an angry red.

Hoshi still believed that Cunningham was one of the few people on board who could be trusted with Archer's life. If the man wasn't lying, there had to be some other explanation.

"It doesn't look like salt has ever been put in this," Reed put in as he tore apart the components in the shaker. "It could be a new shaker taken out of storage. There's a miniscule amount of concentrated high explosive, and an arming mechanism, which looks like it's made to be detonated remotely. Very clever, actually. It probably would have killed anyone in a two-meter radius of the blast." Reed looked at Archer. "Provided it had worked, that is."

"I don't know how to do any of that!" Cunningham insisted.

"So there was salt in it when you checked it," Hoshi said, trying to defuse the anger she could feel coming from Archer.

"Yes," the steward insisted. "I checked both it and the pepper shaker, to make sure they would flow freely."

Hoshi shot a glance at Reed. Now that he had investigated the device, and had checked the pepper shaker as well but found nothing, she could see he'd moved on to the same question that was puzzling her.

"If you are to be believed," Reed said, "how do you explain this?" He held up the bits and pieces of the tiny but deadly bomb.

"I can't," Cunningham said.

"Unless someone switched it when you weren't looking," Hoshi put in quickly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Reed give an approving nod as he put the pieces of the now torn-apart bomb on the table.

"Tell us what you did after checking the shakers," Reed said.

Cunningham took a deep breath, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I was in the kitchen I use for fixing the captain's meals. The shakers were the last things I put on the tray."

"Did anyone come into the kitchen while you were there?" Reed asked.

"No, sir," Cunningham replied.

Hoshi glanced at Archer. He was watching the interrogation closely, but he hadn't intervened or tried to take it over himself. Then again, she thought, that's what he had Reed for.

"What about while you were bringing the food here?" Reed asked. "Tell me the exact route you took."

"I left my kitchen through the galley, making sure to lock the door behind me," Cunningham said. "Then I went through the galley exit into the main corridor like I usually do. I was about halfway down the corridor when Commander Tucker, coming the other way, stopped me."

Reed's eyes narrowed at this information. "Why?"

"He wanted to know if I'd seen Lieutenant Kelby."

"Had you?"

"No, not yet," Cunningham said. "That's what I told Commander Tucker."

"Did you look at anything besides Commander Tucker or the tray you were carrying while you talked to him?"

"I don't think so," Cunningham said uncertainly. "It was only for a couple of seconds that we talked. He wasn't even standing very close to me."

Reed looked at Archer. "Tucker could have easily switched shakers if Cunningham was distracted. And he definitely has the ability to make a device like that," he added, pointing to the disassembled bomb on the table.

Everyone looked at Archer as he considered the possibility that his chief engineer might have tried to kill him. Hoshi mentally cringed. Both she and T'Pol had suspected Tucker of the first attempt on Archer's life. If he was indeed the maker of the mini-bomb, she should tell Archer about her suspicion. Then he'd want to know why she hadn't said anything about it sooner, and she had an idea of how Archer would react to that.

"I can't believe Trip would do something like this," Archer murmured to himself. "He's been with me ever since _Enterprise _was launched." He exhaled heavily as he reached a decision. "Mister Reed, go get him and--"

"Wait!" Hoshi interrupted.

"Now what?" Archer said, his eyes narrowed in irritation.

Instead of addressing Archer, she turned to Cunningham. "You told Commander Tucker you hadn't seen Lieutenant Kelby _yet_. Were those your exact words to him?"

"What are you getting at?" Archer asked, his voice rising.

Ignoring Archer, she prompted Cunningham, "Is that exactly what you said?"

Cunningham tilted his head, his eyes losing their focus as he thought. "No, I just told him I hadn't seen him. I saw Lieutenant Kelby later."

Reed pounced on the subtle distinction that Hoshi had already discerned. "Where did you see Kelby?" he asked.

"After I talked to Commander Tucker, I started back down the hall," Cunningham said. "I was passing the turbolift when the door to it opened, and Lieutenant Kelby got out." With a look of indignation, he added, "He was in such a hurry that he bumped into me. I almost dropped the the captain's tray!"

"Then what?" Reed asked.

"He apologized and helped me straighten the things on the tray, which had slid around," Cunningham said. His eyes went wide. "He picked up the salt shaker, which had fallen over, and set it back upright."

"Sleight of hand," Reed said to Archer. "I seem to recall that Kelby has a fondness for simple magician's tricks. He could have easily switched shakers."

"He also has the knowledge to build a device like a miniature bomb," Archer said. "Go get him. Take him to the booth."

Already on his way to the door, Reed said, "Aye, sir. With pleasure."

After Reed left, Archer let out a long sigh. He looked at his plate, picked up his fork, and began eating.

Hoshi stared at him. How could he be so calm after they'd found out who had tried to kill him? Sure, he'd been angry when they'd first realized the salt shaker had been rigged to explode, but his return to what passed for normalcy in this universe was astounding. Or was it that assassination attempts were such a common occurrence that, when thwarted, they were quickly dismissed?

She picked up her own fork and scooped up the tiniest bit of eggs. Her own appetite was long gone. At least it hadn't been Tucker, she told herself as she tentatively tasted the food. T'Pol ought to be pleased, but what if she tried to back out on their agreement, since there was no longer a need for her to protect the chief engineer?

Archer looked over at her and noticed that she wasn't eating, "What's the matter? Aren't you feeling well?"

Hoshi shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Just thinking."

Archer gazed at her for a few moments. "Well, if you don't want the rest of your breakfast, I'll finish it. I feel like I could eat a horse."


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: Wow! You all really like a who-done-it mystery. But some of you voiced doubts about who did. You'll see you're not alone in this chapter. Plus, there's a special surprise for Hoshi. Thanks for the reviews!

CHAPTER 35

After Archer had finished eating his fill, he gave Hoshi the option of going with him to see Kelby interrogated or heading up to the bridge to resume her translating duties.

"Are you putting yourself back on active duty?" she asked.

He pushed carefully back from the table. With a half grin he said, "We'll see how I feel after I hear what Kelby has to say." Then his grin took on the sinister overtones she'd come to associate with this universe. "I'm sure I'll feel much better once Kelby confesses."

Hoshi hesitated. She had yet to meet the Kelby of this universe, but the one in hers had a chip on his shoulder. She could understand his resentment at having to give up his promotion to chief engineer of _Enterprise _after Trip's transfer to _Columbia _hadn't worked out, but it was more than that. She'd never particularly cared for Kelby as a person; he was self-centered and had an inflated sense of his own worth. She could imagine what this one might be like, since it seemed that any negative qualities of counterparts of people she knew were amplified in this universe, while good qualities were repressed so deeply that they hardly ever saw the light of day.

But no one, no matter who they were, deserved to be tortured. She didn't want to be present during an interrogation where she was sure torture would be used.

If Kelby was indeed the person who had been trying to kill Archer, there also was no longer any need to keep constant watch over the captain. But what if it wasn't Kelby? She wondered if her doubt was justified, or if she was becoming as paranoid as everyone else in this universe seemed to be. One thing she knew for certain: She had never second-guessed herself so much in her life.

Still, it wouldn't be a good idea to let Archer go off on his own, since he was still recovering from that nasty impalement. He might collapse somewhere when he was alone and no one would know. Although she'd been hoping to go to the bridge and find out how T'Pol was doing with the information about getting her home, that could wait while she rode herd on Archer a little longer.

"I'll go with you," she said at last.

Archer smiled, got to his feet, and carefully but steadily walked to the bathroom. A short time later, he was dressed in his uniform -- that must have hurt because of the injury to his side, Hoshi thought, noting his pale face -- and was ready to leave the cabin.

* * *

No wonder they called it the agony booth, Hoshi thought some time later.

She and Archer, along with the omnipresent Mayweather, had walked into a smallish compartment near the brig to find Reed standing in front of a control console. Two meters in front of him was a clear, round chamber big enough to hold a person. It reminded Hoshi of a giant test tube. Kelby was currently occupying it. He was leaning against the inside, his face dripping sweat. She looked more closely and saw that he was trembling uncontrollably. Whatever happened inside that thing must be incredibly painful.

She looked at Reed. He had that satisfied smirk on his face that she detested. Of course he'd enjoy this.

"Anything?" Archer asked him.

"Not yet," Reed replied, "but then, I was just getting him warmed up for your arrival."

"Increase the setting," Archer ordered.

Reed reached down, adjusted a lever, and looked at Kelby. "Did you try to kill the captain with a bomb this morning?"

Kelby managed to lift his head far enough to glare at Archer. He didn't say anything.

Archer shifted his gaze to Reed and nodded.

Reed pushed a button. A high-pitched whine filled the air, hurting Hoshi's ears and making her wince. The effect on Kelby was more profound, as dancing tendrils of energy arced through the chamber, making the man jerk like a puppet on a string every time they touched him. No longer resting against the side of the chamber, Kelby was stiffly upright, every muscle in his body tense, his head thrown back, and his mouth opened in a soundless scream.

"Did you try to kill the captain with a bomb this morning?" Reed repeated.

Kelby clamped his mouth shut. Several long seconds later, the whine of the machine began to drop in pitch.

"It's recycling," Reed said to Archer.

When the noise ceased, Kelby fell against the side and slowly slid down to the floor of the booth.

"This could take a while," Archer said, moving over to lean on the console next to Reed. "You may have to override the recycling cut-off switch."

Hoshi didn't know if she could stand to watch more of this. What Kelby was going through was bad enough, but Archer and Reed's almost clinical attitude of the procedure was worse. She almost asked Archer to stop it, but one look at his implacable expression warned her off. She used the only excuse she could think of to get out of there. "If this is going to take some time, I'd be better off on the bridge, running translations."

Archer studied her for a moment. She got the impression he was disappointed by her request to leave, no matter that she'd try to couch it in terms he'd accept.

"Fine," he said. "Take Mayweather with you."

Hoshi turned and headed for the exit, trying not to appear to hurry. Behind her, she heard Reed say, "It's ready again, sir."

* * *

"Ma'am?"

Preoccupied with what she'd just witnessed, it took Hoshi a moment to realize that Mayweather had actually addressed her for no apparent reason as they were walking down the corridor away from the brig area. "What is it, Corporal?"

"Colonel Hawthorne has asked to see you in troop quarters at your earliest convenience," he said.

Hoshi stopped walking to look at him. She couldn't understand why the leader of the combat troops would want to see her, and why he just didn't come to her himself. "What does he want to see me about?" she asked.

"Don't know, ma'am."

He was back to the short answers. She'd looked down the corridor to the turbolift. She'd intended to go to the bridge; she really wanted to know about the status of the data for sending her back. But, she'd already been delayed once; she supposed another wouldn't make much difference, especially since she didn't know if T'Pol had the data ready to give to her. "All right," she told him. "Lead the way."

Mayweather ushered her down an adjacent corridor. Hoshi remembered it from the time Archer had taken her to the combat troop quarters to get a bodyguard for her. She hadn't been there since. As curious as she was to find out why Hawthorne wanted to speak to her, she was also a little apprehensive. She was straying from the places on this ship where she felt relatively safe.

Mayweather stopped outside the hatch to the troops' quarters, but instead of opening it, he used the intercom panel set into the bulkhead next to the door to alert Hawthorne of her arrival. "Colonel, she's here."

"Acknowledged," came the reply through the speaker.

Mayweather reached over, swung open the hatch, and gestured for her to enter. Hoshi, her instincts blaring a warning, looked at the hatch, looked back at Mayweather, and decided there was no way she could make a run for it. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through.

Hawthorne was waiting for her. Standing at attention, he smartly executed this universe's version of a salute, as his fisted right hand smacked the left side of his chest, then his right arm extended straight out toward her. "Ma'am," he said. "Thank you for coming."

She wasn't about to return the gesture. It reminded her too much of the Nazi salute she'd seen on her Earth's historical vids. She cautiously answered, "Colonel."

She let her gaze travel past him. The entire complement of soliders was lined up in orderly rows, all of them standing at attention. At a command from Hawthorne, every single one of them performed the salute in unison in her direction.

She turned a puzzled gaze to Hawthorne. "What's this about?" she asked.

"We wanted to thank you, ma'am," he said, still standing at attention.

With the multitude of bad things she'd seen in this universe, this definitely wasn't what she'd been expecting. Still not certain what was going on, and because she felt a little guilty for thinking the worst, she asked, "Thank me for what?"

"For your heroic actions aboard the Andorian ship," Hawthorne replied. "Because of you, not only was the captain's life saved, but the lives of two of our comrades."

He had to be talking about the two soldiers who been pinned down under fire in the corridor, she realized. "I just did what I thought was right, that's all."

"At the risk of your own life, ma'am," Hawthorne said. "Not many in the Imperial fleet would have done that for combat troops. We're considered expendable."

The soldiers had maintained the salute, holding their arms outstretched, during the exchange. It was making Hoshi uncomfortable, even as it flattered her. "Tell them to put their arms down, would you?" she asked.

Hawthorne turned to the troops. "At ease!" he barked. "Dismissed!"

The soldiers immediately lowered their arms and went about their business. Hawthorne wasn't smiling as he turned back to her, but there was a sincere glint in his eyes. This man might not be Major Hayes, but he reminded her an awful lot of him.

"This wasn't necessary," Hoshi told him.

"Perhaps not," he said. "But every soldier here adheres to a strict code of honor, whether they are conditioned or not."

That sounded more like Klingons than humans, except for the conditioning part. "What do you mean by conditioned?" she asked.

Hawthorne tilted his head. "Didn't you know? Some of these soldiers receive conditioning, or special training. They are conditioned to respond to orders from superiors, and in specific cases, not to obey anyone but certain individuals." He gestured at Mayweather. "The corporal here is one such soldier. He is conditioned to obey any order given directly to him from me, the captain or Lieutenant Reed, no matter what his previous orders may have been."

It sounded a lot like brainwashing to Hoshi. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. "You mean he has no free will of his own?"

"Not at all," Hawthorne said with a shake of his head. "He can make decisions, but his first impulse is to obey orders from those individuals. If the orders are foolhardy or dangerous without reason, however, he will take appropriate action on his own." He glanced at Mayweather, who was standing just inside the hatch. "That's what makes Mayweather a good bodyguard."

Hoshi was confused. She'd seen Mayweather follow Archer and Reed's commands, but he also had unfailingly followed hers. "Was he conditioned to obey me?" she asked.

"In a way," Hawthorne said. "When the captain assigned him to be your bodyguard, that also entailed Mayweather following your orders. The captain gave his authority over him to you."

That explained why Mayweather had always followed her orders. It also probably explained why the two soldiers on the Andorian ship hadn't gone to the airlock until she'd invoked the captain's name. They must be among those conditioned to obey Archer. "Oh," she said in a small voice, repelled by the entire concept.

She left the combat troops' quarters with the same feeling she'd had when she'd fled from the agony booth compartment. Was there no end to the horrible surprises on this ship?

* * *

Hoshi went to her spot at the aft auxiliary station on the bridge. Mayweather took up his usual position a few paces away. She'd been disappointed to see that T'Pol wasn't on the bridge. But Commander Tucker, sitting in the command chair, had smiled broadly at her when she'd stepped out of the turbolift.

"Hey, darlin'," he said, getting out of the command chair to climb to the upper level as she sat down. "Got some good news for ya."

For a moment, she felt her hopes rise, believing that he was going to tell her it was possible for her to go home. That was the only news she would consider good. But when he came to a halt by her station, his next words dashed those hopes.

"The cap'n just called up here to let me know that Kelby confessed to tryin' to kill him -- _twice_!" Tucker's face was a study in morbid curiosity. "I knew about the poisoning, but fixin' a salt shaker to blow up? A salt shaker! Can ya believe it?"

"Yes, I can believe it," she said, deadpan. "I was there."

"That's right!" Tucker said. "You were havin' breakfast with the cap'n, weren't ya? It's a damn good thing Kelby's such a lousy engineer, for your sake. Oh, and for the cap'n, too."

That last sounded too much like an afterthought, as if Archer's survival was incidental to catching whoever had tried to kill him. By now, Hoshi wouldn't have been surprised if Tucker wouldn't rather have preferred Archer dead. He'd probably still get bumped up to captain no matter who had done it.

And although Kelby had confessed, the people of this universe seemed to be overlooking one important factor: People sometimes confessed under torture to things they hadn't done, simply to make the pain stop.

"I suppose it is," Hoshi said, trying to ignore Tucker by turning her attention to the auxiliary console board. The man was much too happy about what had happened.

As Tucker walked back to the command well, Hoshi knew she still suspected him of wanting to kill Archer. It really didn't matter that whoever was responsible hadn't been successful this time -- Kelby, Tucker, or some other crew member -- for she was sure there was a good possibility there would be a next time if the opportunity presented itself.


	36. Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

Hoshi's trip to the bridge turned out to be a bust. Not only was T'Pol not there, but after her conversation with Tucker, she found that there were few transmissions for her to translate. After the battle at Panmikar, very few alien ships were broadcasting, as if they were afraid to draw attention to themselves. She couldn't say that she blamed them. She easily and quickly translated the recordings sent to her station, then found herself with nothing to do but monitor the traffic from the main communications console. She felt more than useless.

On top of that, the atmosphere on the bridge was oppressive. Most of that she put down to Ensign Freeman on duty at the main comm station. She didn't have to be a mind reader to know that the officer disliked her, maybe even hated her. If she was lucky, he'd only have to put up with her looking over his shoulder, figuratively speaking, for a few more days. For the time being, she would try to stay out of his way.

It was a relief when it was time for her to take her lunch break. She powered down her station and went to the turbolift, feeling Freeman's eyes on her the whole time. She let out a long, shuddering breath when the lift doors closed, shutting her and Mayweather off from the bridge.

As usual, her bodyguard said nothing on the way to the mess hall. Despite her revulsion at finding out he'd been "conditioned" to follow orders, she was glad he was with her.

The mess hall was only half full when she arrived. As was her customary practice, she made her way to an empty table after picking out something to eat. Mayweather took up his position a few paces to the side and behind her, his back to the bulkhead. He had been with her long enough that most of the diners paid no notice, which was fine by Hoshi.

She'd taken her first taste of the cream of broccoli soup she'd selected -- too much pepper, but she thought she could eat it -- when T'Pol entered the mess hall. The Vulcan woman selected something from the food cabinets and, with studied nonchalance, made her way in the direction of Hoshi's table. Perhaps now, Hoshi thought, she'd get a chance to ask if the data was ready for her. "Care to join me, Commander?" she asked as T'Pol approached.

T'Pol dipped her head in agreement. As she sat down, Hoshi got a look at the dish she was carrying. The Vulcan had opted for a salad.

"I didn't see you on the bridge this morning," Hoshi said.

T'Pol didn't answer immediately; she was staring at her salad. Hoshi took a closer look. Apparently pepper was the seasoning of the day, for the lettuce was liberally covered with the small, dark specks.

T'Pol sighed, as if in resignation at the fare before her. "I have been working some night shifts in addition to my regular alpha shift," she said as she placed a napkin on her lap. "The bridge duty roster had to be adjusted to accommodate the captain's absence." She looked at Hoshi. "Commander Tucker insisted on taking a rotation. This morning, he ordered me to take some time off."

T'Pol's gaze was steady. Hoshi reasoned that if T'Pol now thought Tucker was innocent, she would probably say so, but no such words were forthcoming. She wondered if T'Pol had come to the same conclusion as she had: Tucker might still be responsible for the attempts on the captain's life, despite Kelby's confession.

For lack of anything else to say, Hoshi commented, "He is the first officer. He's probably doing what he thinks is best."

"He serves _Enterprise _better as chief engineer."

Such talk from T'Pol might get her in trouble, even if she was speaking what she perceived as fact. Hoshi glanced at the diners at the closest tables; no one appeared to have heard. Taking care to keep her voice soft, she asked, "Do you have something for me?"

T'Pol, her eyes downcast, sedately took a bite of her salad. Hoshi, nevertheless, saw her eyes dart from side to side. The Vulcan woman then reached down to remove the napkin from her lap. "I don't believe I can eat this salad," she said, putting the napkin on the table.

She hadn't answered Hoshi's question, but was looking levelly at her. Then Hoshi saw the other woman's gaze slowly track down to the napkin she'd placed on the table.

Hoshi reached out and knocked over her glass of iced tea. She grabbed her own napkin to sop up the mess. "I'm sorry. I can't believe I did that." She made a few swipes in the pooled liquid. "I think I'm going to have to get something else to help wipe this up."

"Use my napkin," T'Pol said, pushing it closer to Hoshi.

"Thanks." Hoshi put her hand over T'Pol's napkin and dragged it across the tabletop toward her. When it reached the edge, Hoshi felt something small and lightweight drop out from underneath onto her lap. Mopping at the mess with the napkin, she used her free hand to slide the data chip into her hip pocket.

* * *

It was difficult to go back to the bridge after T'Pol had given her the data chip. Hoshi wanted to find a private place to view the information, and the bridge was anything but private. She thought about going to her quarters, but Archer might be there. Even if he wasn't, there was that whole business about not knowing the code to the door. If she was in this universe much longer -- and she fervently hoped she wasn't -- she would need to do something about that.

With a start, she realized she hadn't thought much about Archer since she'd left the interrogation. He probably was due for some more painkiller, especially since he'd been up and walking around, which would aggravate the wound.

With a shake of her head, she reminded herself that she wasn't his nursemaid, no matter that she seemed to have been in charge of his medical care, if only by default, ever since Phlox had tried to poison him. If Archer truly needed her, all he had to do with use the intercom system and page her. He knew where she was, anyway; she'd told him she would be on the bridge doing translating.

But unfortunately, there wasn't anything to translate. She'd already gone through what little had been picked up that morning, and there seemed to be no subspace traffic at all to monitor now.

It took her the better part of two hours to decide to look at the data chip while she was on the bridge. She didn't think anyone would notice what she was doing, other than looking at something on one of the screens on her console. But of course, there was Mayweather, her ever-faithful bodyguard, standing off to her right. He'd be able to see what was on the screen. Not willing to risk that he might realize what she was up to -- he might feel it necessary to report it to Archer, despite his apparent loyalty to her -- she entered a few commands into her console before inserting the data chip so that when the file opened and displayed on the screen, the text was in Andorian. She was fairly sure no one on board other than herself could read that language. To the casual observer, it might look like she was reviewing an intercepted transmission. After a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was paying any attention to her, she began reading.

As she'd feared, the information was quite technical. T'Pol had provided all the analysis, along with supporting theorems. She read quickly until she came to the end, where T'Pol had written a summary of her findings in terms that were easier for her to understand.

Hoshi's heart started pounding. She'd been right, she saw as she read the summary. Her arrival here, and her departure for that matter, hinged on the space anomalies. But the bigger shock was that the anomalies weren't the only thing necessary to send her back.

The summary listed a set order of events that had to occur to open a window between the two universes. A warp engine, such as the one on her shuttle, had to be engaged within one of the anomalies. Then the combined energies of the anomaly and the engine had to be channeled in an unusual joint conduction through a dense metal. According to the report, T'Pol had never seen readings such as those that had been recorded when Hoshi's shuttle had popped into this universe. She hadn't been able to identify the metal.

But Hoshi had an idea what had caused those readings.

She almost laughed out loud on the bridge at the irony, but quickly caught herself. All along she'd thought it was merely a useless souvenir of what was a dead civilization in this universe. She sincerely hoped that Reed, after finding out that the unscannable object they'd found in the asteroid field hadn't been a weapon, hadn't thrown the paperweight away.

* * *

Archer put in an appearance on the bridge late that afternoon. Hoshi was surprised to see him, but realized that he was making a public show of his recuperation. Now that the alleged assassin had been caught, he probably wanted to let the rest of the crew see him up and around, if only to show them that he would no longer be an easy target because of his injury.

When he stepped out of the turbolift, he came straight to her. The cut on his forehead stood out vividly on the pale skin of his face, and there were circles under his eyes. "Hoshi," he said to her. "Join me in my ready room."

Hoshi removed her earpiece and shut down her console. As she followed Archer toward the ready room, she saw Tucker, smiling, move to get up from the command chair to turn over the bridge to the captain.

Archer waved him down. "Stay put, Mister Tucker," he said, adding sarcastically, "Enjoy it for a while longer."

Hoshi caught a glimpse of resentment on Tucker's face, which brought back all her worries about relying on torture as a means of interrogation. She had her doubts about Kelby's confession, since it had been extracted under torture. She tried to reassure herself that Tucker had seemed happy that the person trying to kill the captain had been caught. Then again, that was what she would expect of Trip on her _Enterprise_. Here, Tucker might be happy because he hadn't been caught and that Kelby was taking the blame in his place, although that look of resentment she'd seen on his face could have been due solely to the captain's tone in addressing him.

She also couldn't forget the look of pure hatred on Kelby's face when he'd been asked if he'd tried to kill the captain. So maybe the junior engineer had been behind the attempts on Archer's life.

She rubbed her forehead as she followed Archer into the ready room. There never seemed to be any clear-cut answers in this universe. The feeling of things being out of her control was back, and it was giving her a headache.

Archer sat down at his desk with a grunt. His side was definitely bothering him. "Kelby confessed," he said.

"I heard," she told him. "Commander Tucker told me after you called up to the bridge about it."

"So, now that that is taken care of, we can move on to the next order of business."

"What might that be?" Hoshi asked.

"Finding something worthwhile to occupy the flagship of the Imperial fleet, instead of studying an endless procession of space anomalies that have no explanation."

That was the last thing she wanted to hear. While she could sympathize with the frustration of having boring assignments, she now knew it wasn't a good idea for her to leave the vicinity of the asteroid field, not if she wanted to get home. She tried to keep the panic out of her voice. "Um, surely fleet command has a good reason for you to be here."

"Oh, I know exactly why they have insisted on keeping _Enterprise _in this isolated backwater," Archer said, his brows drawing together much like the gathering of thunderclouds before a storm.

Even preoccupied with her own situation, she was aware that what he was telling her was very unlike him. Paranoid tendencies aside, it sounded almost delusional, although there was no trace in his manner of the agitated ranting as when he'd had a fever. She remained mute, uncertain of what he wanted from her in this meeting.

"They don't like what I'm doing," he continued. He motioned for her to sit down. "I know you were confused when I decided to talk to Shran in person."

She'd almost forgotten about that. She was still curious, but since going home was almost in her grasp, she realized she didn't really care. Not to follow up on his opening, however, would only make him suspicious. "Yes, I was," she said as she sat down.

Archer leaned back in his chair, looking down to where one of his hands rested lightly on his side where he'd been wounded. "This just goes to prove that perhaps I can't do it all by myself."

Hoshi remained quiet. She had no idea what Archer was talking about.

"I feel I can trust you because you have no ties in this universe. You have no hidden agenda of your own," he said.

_If he only knew!_ Hoshi thought, trying to keep her expression politely interested instead of showing her dismay.

"The empire can expand only so far before it won't be able to maintain its hold on subject worlds," Archer continued. "The end result will be a period of chaos and destruction with, I believe, the empire being overthrown. Humans will become the slaves of every race that has been conquered by the empire, which is about all of them." He frowned. "There are already signs that it's happening: the Andorian uprisings, the escalating Klingon attacks, even rumblings from Vulcan."

"What has this got to do with Shran?" Hoshi asked.

"I'm getting to that," he said. "In the past year, I've made contacts with leaders of some of the subject species who could prove to be a problem for the empire in the long run. I've tried to work out arrangements that would benefit their people as well as humans. Stability, even if humans have to share some of our power, is in the best interest of the empire. My first attempt was with Ambassador Gral. I won't bore you with the details, but he committed suicide rather than ally himself with humans." Archer scowled. "The short-sighted fool!"

Archer's voice took on a deeper intensity. "I thought Shran would be more open to reason. We arranged to have it appear as if there would be an attack on a Terran colony world by Andorian forces. The plan was for me to arrive before the Andorian forces, initiate a standoff, call in Shran to supposedly negotiate, and then he would call off the attack -- before it started. If you hadn't caught that imbedded transmission, I would have never have known Shran was already on the way to lead the attack instead of stopping it."

"What would Shran have gotten out of this if he'd followed your plan instead?" Hoshi asked.

"He would have been rewarded. I have connections that would have made sure that he was the first alien on the Imperial Council." Archer sighed. "He was to have been the first of many, with subject species eventually having a voice in the empire. But Shran didn't want to work with humans. As we found out, he'd much rather kill them."

Hoshi couldn't believe what she was hearing. In this twisted, cruel universe, there was actually someone who had a vision of a better way of life? Then she remembered who was talking to her. "What's in it for you?" she asked.

Archer laughed. "Reed is right. You are clever." He leaned forward, his face earnest. "I don't want to be emperor, if that's what you're wondering."

"It had crossed my mind," she said faintly.

"I believe that I would be best suited directing the subject species on the council. A behind-the-scenes position, until the time is right for a united organization of all species, humans and others, to be formed."

"With you at the head of it," Hoshi guessed.

Archer smiled approvingly at her. "I want you to pay careful attention to all transmissions that we pick up," he said. "All I need is one little reason, one excuse, to leave this area. News of a Klingon attack on an outpost, or maybe some of the Andorians acting up again, that sort of thing. Anything that might justify us leaving this area without direct orders from fleet command. Then I can continue making contacts among the subject species. Stuck where we are right now, there's no chance of that."

Hoshi stared at him in disbelief. If they left this area of space, her plan to go home would be gone. She was going to have to act soon, or perhaps lose her chance forever.

Then Archer said what she'd been fearing, off and on, the entire time she'd been in this universe. "When everything is in place, you will be at my side as my consort."


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: Again, thank you to the readers who have stuck with this. There are a few more chapters to go. And especially, thank you to everyone who has reviewed.

CHAPTER 37

Archer waited for a reaction from Sato, but she didn't say anything. The magnitude of his proposal had apparently overwhelmed her. Her eyes were wide, staring at him, as if she either couldn't believe it, or perhaps it was just too much for her to comprehend immediately.

"You, of course, must keep what I told you confidential," he told her. "No one is to know." His countenance darkened momentarily as he added, "If anyone else finds out, I will know who told them."

Sato finally managed to stutter out a response. "I...uh, understand. It's...uh...just so..."

"Unexpected?" he asked smugly.

"Yes," she said. "That's it. Totally unexpected. It's going to take a while to get used to the idea."

He had been right, he saw. She had been overwhelmed. What woman wouldn't be? It was an incredible honor, but one which he believed she deserved. That inner strength of hers that had always impressed him would stand her in good stead as his consort.

"We'll talk about it more later," he said, making a shooing motion with his hand. "Get back to work while I get some of my own work done." He grimaced. "Tucker may think he's a good captain, but he let a lot of paperwork pile up. Now maybe I'll find out what happened to the rest of the Andorian fleet after Panmikar."

"Uh, right," she said, getting to her feet.

She was almost to the door when he called after her. "Remember -- tell no one."

She turned around to look at him, her face still showing her surprise, and nodded. Then she quietly let herself out.

* * *

Hoshi had run out of time, and she hadn't really realized the clock had been ticking. As she made her way back to her station, she knew that she had to act soon, because once Archer found a reason to leave this area of space, she would most likely be doomed to spend the rest of her life in this universe.

At least he'd probably thought her surprised reaction had been at his decision to make her his consort. That announcement, on top of everything else he'd told her, had been the last straw. In the larger scheme of things, being his consort was the least of her worries. The very word brought to mind images of pomp and pageantry of long-past eras. But those had also been times of secrets and conspiracies. She couldn't imagine living that way. It was yet one more reason to leave this universe.

And he hadn't even asked if she wanted to be his consort. He'd just told her she would be.

It was just as well there weren't any more transmissions to translate, she thought as she checked the file queue at her auxiliary station and found it empty. She doubted she'd be able to concentrate on them. Instead, she stared blankly at the screen on her console, reviewing what Archer had told her. He had said he didn't want to be emperor, but he certainly had some delusions of grandeur. She could understand his cautioning her not to speak of his plan. Installing aliens on the Terran Imperial Council was probably not something that most humans in this universe would accept willingly. Such a change would signal a new order. And Archer had said he'd be directing the aliens.

So, she concluded, he didn't want to be in charge of a human empire, but of a diversified coalition. Semantics, she thought sourly. A dictator was a dictator, even if he tried to pass himself off as a benevolent leader. Although Archer had phrased some of what he'd told her in terms that were humanitarian -- and wasn't that a misleading word, since humans tended to apply it to their idea of what was fair and right -- it all came down to a totalitarian regime, only minus the imperialistic trappings. Some members of some species might benefit by being in positions of power, but the vast majority of people would be in the same state as they were now.

She glanced surreptitiously around the bridge. T'Pol still hadn't returned. Reed was missing as well, although that wasn't unusual. He often had duties that required he be away from the bridge, assuming he was finished torturing Kelby, that is, she thought with a grimace. She shouldn't be here, either. There were things she needed to do.

She tried paging T'Pol in her quarters. A few moments later, the Vulcan responded.

"I'm having some difficulty with a translation," she told the Vulcan. "It involves a form of mathematics I'm not familiar with."

"On my way," T'Pol said.

"No!" Hoshi said before T'Pol could cut the connection. "I need a break, so how about if I come by your cabin with the data?"

There was only the slightest pause before T'Pol responded, "That would be acceptable."

Hoshi almost shut down her station before she remembered she didn't know exactly where T'Pol's cabin was located. She shouldn't assume it was in the same place as on her _Enterprise_. After checking the ship's directory, she found out it wasn't. It was on B deck, in officers' quarters, but several cabins farther down the corridor than in her universe.

She locked down her station and headed to the turbolift. She'd almost forgotten about Mayweather until he followed her into the lift. Later, she might have to come up with a way to ditch him. For the time being, however, his presence wasn't a problem. In fact, it allowed her to move around the ship with a certain amount of safety. As long as he didn't start asking questions, she told herself. Given his verbal track record so far, she doubted that would happen.

When T'Pol opened her cabin door at their arrival, Hoshi ordered Mayweather to stay in the corridor before she entered. She waited until the door was closed before speaking. "I don't have a translation I need help with."

T'Pol arched an eyebrow. "There is something else for which you require my assistance?"

"Yes. I have to go home -- now! The captain is looking for any excuse to leave this area of space, and we both know the anomalies here are needed to send me back. If _Enterprise _goes somewhere else, it will be impossible."

T'Pol moved farther into the cabin, which Hoshi noticed was even more austere than her T'Pol's. That is to say, there was no decoration at all, not even meditation candles.

"That is a problem," T'Pol said. "We need to act with haste. However, there are some aspects of the process that need to be addressed."

T'Pol's calm deliberation was making Hoshi anxious. "Yes, I know that," she said. "But I think I've figured out the part about the dense metal needed to conduct the energy."

The Vulcan woman looked at her intently. "You have?"

"It's that stupid Risan souvenir cylinder thing that Reed had me translate," Hoshi said. "He said the material was so dense it couldn't be scanned properly, and it was found near where my shuttle was found. He said the asteroids near it had been pulverized."

T'Pol slowly nodded her head as she considered that information. "If the cylinder was channeling the energy of the anomaly and the shuttle, it might result in a discharge of excess energy that broke up the asteroids." She looked sharply at Hoshi. "We will need to obtain that object."

"Of course," Hoshi said. "It's probably still in the armory. That's my next stop."

"Lieutenant Reed will want to know why you want it."

Hoshi had already worked out that part of the plan on her way to T'Pol's cabin. Sort of. "I'm going to tell him that I want to give it to Captain Archer."

T'Pol looked at her dubiously. "That is not sufficient reason."

"As a keepsake of how we met," Hoshi added. Even she as she said it, she knew it sounded lame. When T'Pol continued to stare at her, she tried again. "All right. How about if I say I want it as a reminder for the captain of my translation skills, which make me so valuable?"

"Weak," T'Pol conceded, "but since humans are involved, probably believeable by them. It would be seen as an attempt on your part to ensure your somewhat vulnerable position."

_As the captain's woman, _Hoshi mentally added when T'Pol didn't say it. She paced a few steps, thinking. That would probably work, especially since Reed was the person she'd have to fool to get the cylinder. His nasty, depraved mind would very likely assume she was trying to solidify her position as captain's woman. "While I'm getting the cylinder from Reed, you can prep my shuttle, make sure it's ready to go."

"In its current state, it is not operational."

"What!"

"Commander Tucker has disassembled many essential components. The shuttle will not be able to launch without them. It would take me at least a day to reinstall them. The probability of me completing the work without someone discovering what I am doing is quite low."

"Damn it!" Hoshi cried, her anxiety hitching up a notch. She'd assumed they'd leave the shuttle intact, not take it apart. Now what was she going to do?

"However," T'Pol said a beat later, "there are other shuttlepods in the launch bay, one of which could be utilized."

Hoshi looked at the other woman, not sure she'd heard her correctly. "You're saying I should steal one of them?"

"You will need my help, of course," T'Pol said matter of factly. "However, the timing must be precise. It would be unwise to launch when there are no anomalies present. Shuttlepods cannot outrun _Enterprise_. The captain would simply order the grappling hooks deployed, and the shuttlepod, with you in it, would be brought back into the launch bay. I have, however, charted the appearance and duration of the anomalies we have been studying. There appears to be a pattern."

"So you can predict when they will occur?" Hoshi asked, almost unable to believe her luck.

"To some extent."

Typical Vulcan, Hoshi thought, not willing to be pinned down if she didn't have a precise answer. But this T'Pol was so much like the one she'd worked with for several years that she believed T'Pol's guesses would be so close to accurate that it wouldn't make much difference.

"All right," Hoshi said. She chewed her lip as she thought. She'd get the cylinder, T'Pol could figure out when the next anomaly would appear, and then it would just be a matter of getting to a shuttlepod and launching. The cylinder, however, would have to be deployed into space.

T'Pol was thinking along the same lines, for she said, "I will determine when the next several anomalies are scheduled to appear. I will also work on a plan to eject the metal cylinder into space. It may be as simple as putting it in the airlock, opening the outer door, and allowing it to be sucked out with the airlock's atmosphere."

"Opening the airlock could be done remotely from another location," Hoshi said, feeling her hopes start to rise. This might just work. "You wouldn't have to be at the airlock to do it."

"I will contact you when I have determined the time of the appearance of the next anomalies," T'Pol told her.

"Great. And thanks," Hoshi said.

She moved toward the door, but stopped before opening it. She turned back to T'Pol. There was one thing she wanted to know, which might explain why T'Pol was still willing to help her despite Kelby confessing to trying to kill Archer. "You still think Commander Tucker tried to kill the captain, don't you?"

"Perhaps," T'Pol admitted. "But there is an advantage for me in this scenario we have planned."

"What's that?" Hoshi asked.

"If you successfully return to you universe, there is a good possibility that Captain Archer will be removed from command of _Enterprise_, especially if the loss of an Imperial shuttlepod is involved."

Hoshi hadn't considered that, by escaping from this universe, she might be harming the man whose life she had been protecting for several days. "And that's to your advantage?" she asked, not understanding the Vulcan's reasoning. T'Pol had said she couldn't kill him because of the privileges she'd received through him. But she was willing to see him demoted and disgraced?

"If Captain Archer is removed," T'Pol said, "there is a good chance that Commander Tucker will finally achieve his most coveted desire -- the captaincy of _Enterprise_."

Hoshi stared aghast at the other woman. Of all the people here, she'd thought T'Pol was the most like her counterpart. But T'Pol's comments, along with the hard expression in her eyes, showed how wrong she'd been. She should have known that here, T'Pol's motives would have nothing to do with love -- as the Vulcan had allowed her to believe. Instead, she was using Tucker.

T'Pol was just like everyone else in this universe -- harsh, cruel, and willing to do just about anything to advance her own position.


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: These people seem to eat a lot of Italian food. That's your fault, volley.

CHAPTER 38

There were only a few places Reed might be on the ship, since he hadn't been on the bridge when Hoshi had left it to see T'Pol. She knew he probably wouldn't still be at the agony booth, since Kelby's interrogation had yielded results, but she took a quick peek in that compartment anyway as she passed by on her way to the armory. She was relieved to see that both the compartment and the booth were empty. Her mind shied away from where Kelby might be now -- the brig, sickbay, the morgue? She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She continued on to the armory. She planned to take Mayweather inside with her, instead of telling him to wait outside as he had at T'Pol's cabin. She believed she'd earned some respect from Reed, but she wouldn't put it past him to try to something. The man had no moral scruples whatsoever.

She was a little surprised that Mayweather hadn't voiced an objection about not going back to the bridge or to the captain's quarters when they left T'Pol's cabin. If she remembered correctly, Archer's initial orders to him had been to escort her to and from the bridge, whether it was from the captain's cabin or the mess hall. He hadn't said anything about any place else. Maybe it was part of the conditioning that made Mayweather such a good bodyguard, she thought. She didn't have to tell him where she was going, as long as he was able to follow and protect her.

Despite Mayweather's reassuring presence, she wasn't looking forward to confronting Reed in his own territory on the ship. But if she was to get the metal cylinder, she had to do it. At the hatch to the armory, she took a deep, calming breath. It didn't help. She opened the hatch before she could chicken out and stepped into the armory. A second later, Mayweather entered after her.

As during her previous visit, she was impressed by the sheer amount of weaponry. Torpedoes, launchers, fire control platforms, clear-fronted cabinets holding phase pistols and rifles. The armory was so very bright and orderly in its layout. Knowing the destructive potential of the weapons, however, and how they were probably used to quell uprisings against the empire, sickened her.

"What can I do for you, luv?"

Hoshi spun around in the direction of the voice. Reed was standing a short distance away, smirking at her as he wiped his hands on a rag. She hadn't seen him when she'd first entered; how had be moved so silently?

She gulped. "I, ah, wanted to know if you still have that Risan souvenir."

Reed scowled. "That worthless piece of junk! It's in a locker over there." He jerked his head toward the storage lockers lining one bulkhead.

Hoshi tried not to let anything show on her face, but inside she was cheering. She'd been afraid that perhaps he had gotten rid of it. If so, her chances of getting home would vanish. The dense metal of the cylinder was essential to the process.

"Could I have it, please?" she asked.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, tossing the rag on a nearby work table. "Whatever for?"

"I want to give it to Captain Archer."

He crossed his arms over his chest. He could have just given it to her, but from his expression, he was waiting for more of an explanation, as if he suspected the useless object suddenly had some value. Or maybe, she thought, he was just being difficult.

Hoshi's cheeks felt hot under his scrutiny. If he wanted to think her blush was due to something other than her nervousness about the real reason she needed the cylinder, all the better. "Um, I want to give it to Captain Archer to remind him of what I'm good at."

He smirked more broadly, taking the comment the way she'd hoped he would.

"Translating!" she said forcefully. "I'm good at translating. That thing was the first test of my abilities." As she warmed to her made-up tale, her voice became more confident. "I don't ever want Captain Archer to forget that I'm the only one who can speak or translate more languages than the Universal Translator."

Reed's lips curved up into a hard smile. "Good for you, luv!" He looked past her at Mayweather. "You can stand down, Corporal."

Hoshi shot a look at Mayweather. He was standing a couple of steps behind and to one side of her, as was his custom, but his hand was on the butt of the pistol in his holster; he apparently had thought there might be a problem with this visit to the armory. Despite Reed's order, his hand didn't budge.

"Bloody conditioning," Reed muttered under his breath. To Mayweather, he said, "I know she's untouchable whenever you're with her."

That comment puzzled Hoshi. Hawthorne had told her that Reed was one of the people Mayweather was conditioned to obey. The bodyguard should have responded immediately, but he hadn't. Perhaps he saw Reed as a threat to her safety. Whatever the reason, she wasn't going to worry about it as long as Mayweather continued to keep her safe. What was important was that she get that cylinder. She watched as Reed went to the storage locker, keyed in a code, and opened it. While his back was to her, she let out a long nervous breath, but by the time he had retrieved the cylinder and carried it back to her, her face was composed as it had been before.

"There you go," he said, handing it to her. "Saves me the trouble of disposing of it."

She took the heavy cylinder from him, trying to hide her eagerness. "Thanks," she said, holding it tightly. She turned to leave.

She was halfway to the hatch when he called after her. "One more thing."

Now that she had the cylinder, her inclination was to keep going as if she hadn't heard him. But she didn't want to give him any reason to follow her. So she turned around, an expression of polite inquiry on her face. "Yes?"

"If the captain doesn't appreciate your little gift," Reed said, his gaze raking her up and down with a look that made her feel dirty, "I'd be more than willing to show my appreciation of your gifts."

She whirled around and rushed out the door. She should have kept on going when she'd had the chance.

* * *

Hoshi took the cylinder back to her quarters. There was no other place to keep it where she could get her hands on it at a moment's notice. Until T'Pol figured out when the next anomaly would appear, she had no way of knowing exactly when she would need it.

There was also the possibility that word would get back to Archer about her trip to the armory and what she wanted there. She might have to produce the cylinder quickly if he wanted to see it.

As luck would have it, she arrived at the door to Archer's cabin just as Cunningham was coming down the corridor from the other direction. His appearance was a mixed blessing. She wouldn't have to page him to unlock the door, but, to judge by the tray he was carrying, it was time for dinner. That meant Archer must have arrived back at the cabin while she'd been traipsing around the ship on her errands.

"That's all for today," she told Mayweather, dismissing him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, but he waited to leave until Cunningham had opened the door.

Then Cunningham, a smile on his face, politely waited for her to enter first. There was no way Archer could miss her entrance. So much for hiding the cylinder in her cabin. With a deep breath, she stepped across the threshold and entered Archer's quarters.

Archer was lying on his bunk, one hand behind his head, wide awake and looking in her direction. "I was wondering when you'd show up," he said.

She couldn't detect any anger or irritation in his voice as she moved a few steps to the side to get out of Cunningham's way. The steward placed the tray on the table and began removing lids from various dishes. Trying to appear nonchalant, she headed for the door to her adjoining cabin as if it was the most natural thing in the universe for her to arrive at her cabin carrying a heavy chunk of cylindrical metal.

"What's that you have?" Archer asked, sitting up.

Dart, who had been lying at the foot of the bed, got up and padded over to her.

She slowly turned to face Archer. As she tried to think of something to say, she reached down with one hand to pet Dart, who was sniffing at the cylinder. If she could put Archer on the defensive, she might be able to pull this off. She hugged the cylinder to her tightly. "It was supposed to be a surprise for you, but you ruined it by being here before I got back. Shame on you!"

Archer was looking blankly at the cylinder in her arms. He clearly didn't understand, which is exactly what she had intended.

"That's a surprise?" he asked. "Isn't that the thing that Reed was certain was a weapon?"

"Yes, to both questions," she told him. "But it means a lot more to me. It's the first thing you had me translate."

Archer still looked confused. "So? Why would I want it?"

Hoshi closed her eyes, took an audible breath and let it out as if calming herself, opened her eyes and said, "I want to give it to you as a reminder of when I came into your life. You know, how good I am at translating, how that's helped you." Archer still hadn't really reacted, so she added snarkily, "Besides, I don't think I've ever seen Reed so put out as when I told him it was a souvenir. That alone is worth keeping it around."

That drew a laugh from Archer.

She allowed a small smile to cross her face. "Anyway, I thought I'd arrange to have some sort of base made for it, and it can sit on your shelf with your other trophies."

Archer smiled indulgently at her. "Fine. Do whatever you want with it."

Hoshi marched into her cabin, shut the door, and leaned against it as she shakily swiped her hair back from her face. Archer had bought her story. And now, she realized, there was no reason to hide the cylinder, because he knew about it and had accepted her explanation. She walked over to the table and carefully set down the cylinder on its surface.

As she turned away, her eyes fell on the closet. It wouldn't hurt to let Archer think she was going along with his plan. Maybe she'd wear the black shift again, the one that she'd worn shortly after she had first woken up in this universe. Anything to put Archer off his guard. With his ego, he might credit her nervousness to nothing more than her excitement about his plans for her.

She quickly changed and was about to go back into Archer's cabin when a beep came from the intercom panel in her cabin. That had never happened before. Curious, she went to the panel and pushed the button to open the connection. "Yes?" she asked cautiously.

"This channel is secure for twenty-two seconds," came T'Pol's voice. "Listen carefully. The next anomaly will appear at oh-two hundred hours tomorrow. I will meet you in the launch bay at that time. Bring the object."

The click of the channel being closed on the other end came over the speaker, followed by silence. Hoshi stared at the intercom panel. Oh-two hundred hours? So soon? With any luck, Archer would be sleeping. She should be able to slip out undetected.

All she had to do right now was get through dinner without letting anything slip. She could do that. She had to do that if she wanted to get home.

* * *

Cunningham left after serving them a dinner of veal parmesan, along with garlic bread and salad. Hoshi's nervousness, along with a heightened sense of urgency, didn't allow her to eat much. She picked at her food, but Archer, she noted, was packing it away with gusto.

"I would have told Cunningham to bring a bottle of wine with this," Archer said at one point, "but between the two of you, I seriously doubt you would have let me have any of it."

His cheeky grin was quite disarming. Hoshi felt herself responding to it, which made her feel even worse about what she was going to to do.

"Well, it's not a good idea to mix alcohol with medications," she said. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Much better," he said with a gleam in his eyes.

Under his steady gaze, she became both warm and uncomfortable at the same time. "You're not that much better," she warned him. "Have you had to take anything for the pain since this morning?"

"No." He frowned slightly, his hand going to his side. "But I think I'm going to need something if I want to get any sleep tonight."

"It's your own fault, you know," she told him. "You didn't have to go running all over the ship today."

"Yes, I did," he contradicted her, some of his old fire resurfacing. "If I'm to keep order on this ship, it's important for the crew to see me. And after what happened with Kelby..." His voice trailed off. "The sooner I'm back at one hundred percent, the better."

Hoshi put down her fork; she wasn't really hungry anyway. "You're due for some more antibiotic. Why don't I get that for you now, and a painkiller."

"I'd rather not have the painkiller right now," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand before she could get to her feet. "It might make me sleepy, and I have something in mind for us that doesn't have anything to do with sleep."

That was what she had been afraid of, especially since he'd told her she was to be his consort. Maybe she shouldn't have worn the black shift, because it signaled that she was willing to go along with his plan. All his plans. How was she going to get out of this?


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews.

CHAPTER 39

Hoshi felt frozen as she tried to think of a way to extricate herself. It was clear that Archer wanted to move their relationship to a more intimate level. She had to do something to stop it. The thought of sexual relations with this man repelled her. He may not be a murderer, and she may have started to like him a little bit, but he could be cruel, he condoned torture, and he had a grand scheme for taking over an empire. He might even decide to dispose of her if she displeased him in some way.

Despite his apparent ardor, she noticed how tired he looked. She seized on that as an excuse, but she'd have to make it sound like she was doing it for his benefit, not hers. All she had to do was pander to his ego.

She carefully disentangled her hand from his. "Much as I would like that," she said as seriously as she could while trying not to gag on the words, "it might set back your recovery. I don't ever want to do anything to hurt you." Before he could protest, she leaned across the table and put a finger on his lips. "You've waited this long. Another day or two won't matter. Please let me get the antibiotic and some painkiller for you."

After a long moment, he nodded, the green fire of his eyes not as blazing as before but still smouldering. He watched, unspeaking, as she got up and went to the shelf with the medical supplies. She smiled at him before opening the med kit and preparing two hyposprays, careful to keep herself between him and what she was doing with the supplies.

She felt badly about what she was about to do, almost as badly as she did about lying to him. But if she was ever to get back home, she had to do this. There was no other way. She realized that her decision not to tell him that she knew there was a way for her to go back had been correct. Between confiding to her of his plans to topple the Terran Empire and his announcement that he planned to make her his consort, she seriously doubted he'd let her go. He might even see her trying to flee as sufficient reason to put her in a work camp at best, or kill her at worst.

She finished loading the hypos and went back to the table. He tilted his head to allow her to put one of the hypos to his neck. She injected the antibiotic.

"You probably ought to check my side," he said, reaching up to grasp her hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss it.

Hoshi gulped. "All right."

He got to his feet, unbuttoning his shirt as he moved toward the bed. She saw him wince as he shrugged out of his shirt. The white bandage on his side, she saw, was unmarred by any blood stains. He sat on the bed, then lay back and waved her over.

She put the used hypo on the table and, as confidently as she could, she went to take a seat next to him on the edge of the bed, placing the second hypo next to her. She peeled back the bandage. The wound looked better than the last time she'd looked at it. "Much better," she said. "I'm surprised that all the activity you had today didn't do something to it. But you're probably going to hurt tomorrow."

"As you said before, I'm a fast healer."

Hoshi picked up the second hypo. Before she could use it on him, however, Archer reached up and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her down on top of him. She tried not to struggle as his arms came around her or show any revulsion as he kissed her passionately. She definitely couldn't bring herself to respond. She endured it for as long as she could, then carefully pulled away.

"None of that," she whispered, still lying on his chest. "You need to rest." Under cover of shifting to bring the hypospray to his neck, she purposely put some pressure on his wound with her elbow. The response was immediate.

"Ow!" Archer said and let go of her.

"See?" she said, sitting up. "I could tell you I told you so--"

"All right," Archer said with a small, pained laugh. "You win." He tilted his head away from her so that she had a clear view of his neck to inject the painkiller.

With only a moment's hesitation, Hoshi injected the contents of the hypospray. She felt guilty about tricking him this way, but what she was doing was inconsequential compared to the way life was lived in this universe. The lies, the deceit, the cruelty. Worst of all, she'd had to resort to some of the same trickery.

Did it matter that she was doing it because it was the only way that she could see to go home? And would it matter if she was successful?

* * *

Sato had seemed preoccupied this evening, Archer thought as he watched her move around the cabin after giving him the injections. He would have thought she'd be happy that Kelby had been caught, and even more so that he'd decided to make her his consort, once he set his plan in motion to replace the antiquated, over-extended empire with a new regime.

She'd arrived at their quarters with that useless piece of space junk, but he supposed he could understand her reason for wanting it. It would be a visible reminder of how useful her skills were to him. And then she'd come out of her cabin wearing that black shift which he'd admired on her once before. As far as he was concerned, that definitely meant that she'd finally accepted she was going to be with him forever, and that her stand-offish attitude toward him was changing. She could hardly blame his thoughts for turning to something pleasurable when she was wearing the alluring outfit while sitting across the table from him.

But she'd barely touched her food tonight, and she hadn't said much during the meal. Maybe it was her concern about his physical condition that was affecting her. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that was it. She'd been worried about him being up and moving around all day, and if it had caused him any pain. Didn't she understand that walking the decks of _Enterprise _had been the best medicine for him?

However, she'd been right. As satisfying as it had been to see Kelby confess and then to get some work done in his ready room, it hadn't been easy. He'd tried to ignore the soreness in his side, which had begun to send sharp throbs of pain outward through his torso during the meal. Even now, the slightest movement as he lie on the bed, like the yawn he covered with a hand, resulted in a corresponding twinge at the site of the wound.

He felt his muscles relax as he watched her feed Dart. His eyelids started to close. He still couldn't believe the dog had taken such a liking to her. That would definitely make things simpler since she was going to be in the adjoining cabin permanently. Well, at least until he was done with _Enterprise_.

No matter how much he liked the ship, there would come a point when he'd have to leave it to take on his new duties as...as what? He groggily wondered what title he should give himself. Not emperor. And not something that sounded military. He'd have to ask Sato about it. She was good with words. She probably could come up with something suitably impressive.

Maybe he'd keep _Enterprise _as his personal transport. Once he was in charge, no one would be able to tell him he couldn't. He yawned again, this time not bothering to cover his mouth as he drifted closer to sleep.

* * *

Hoshi was running out of things to do in Archer's cabin. She'd picked up the items from rebandaging Archer's wound, had put away the hypos, and had fed the dog. She glanced at the chronometer. It wasn't that late. She hadn't wanted to give Archer the sedative so soon, because she wasn't sure how long it would last. Hopefully, since he'd been tired to begin with, he'd sleep for a good, long time when he succumbed to the sedative and she'd be gone by the time he awoke.

Her guilt over giving him the sedative instead of the painkiller wouldn't go away. She knew he was in pain. But, as when she'd asked T'Pol to use the nerve pinch, she rationalized that if he was alseep, he wouldn't be aware he was hurting.

She heard him yawn several times. At last, the sound of heavy breathing, followed by a snore, indicated he was asleep. Motioning for Dart to stay, she went into her cabin and quietly closed the door.

She looked at the chronometer in her cabin. It was several hours before she should leave. That was plenty of time to break the code on the lock on her cabin's door to the corridor. She'd also have to find and bypass the circuit that alerted the bridge to tampering with door codes.

She flexed her fingers and got to work.

* * *

Freeman had been disgusted to see _her _on the bridge again today. Once again she was checking his work. The things he had to put up with! Then, after being called by Archer into his ready room, she'd returned to her station at the back of the bridge a short time later. She couldn't have been there more than five minutes before she left the bridge. If any of the rest of the crew tried walking off the bridge before the end of their shifts, there'd be hell to pay. But she was the captain's woman, so she probably thought she didn't have to conform to regulations.

Out of curiosity, near the end of his shift he had gone to the station where she'd supposedly been working. He knew there had been next to no communications traffic to process, but he'd seen her working on something. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary on the console, except for a data chip in one of the reader slots. So she wasn't perfect, he thought snidely. She'd forgotten to give him the translations she'd done that day. He snatched the chip out of the slot, took it back to the main communications console, and inserted it in a slot there. A file appeared on the screen, but he couldn't read it. It was in one of those alien languages she was supposed to translate and give back to him. Strange. He didn't remember sending a file of this large size to her station today.

The comm officer for the next shift arrived before Freeman could run it through the UT. Still curious about the chip, he pocketed it to look at it later. As the lead communications officer, he was allowed to have a tie-in to the UT from the computer terminal in his quarters. But first he'd go the mess hall and get something to eat.

Freeman had forgotten about the data chip until some clumsy oaf bumped into him after he'd refilled his cup at the beverage dispenser after he'd eaten. The coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup and onto his pants. Just a few drops, but he'd reflexively swiped at them with his free hand. That's when he felt the chip in his pocket. He'd finish his coffee, go to his quarters, and see what she'd been working on.

* * *

It was almost time. Hoshi changed out of the black shift and into the lavender jumpsuit, which would attract less attention if anyone was to see her in the corridors.

She cautiously opened the door between her cabin and Archer's just far enough to see in. The captain was asleep with Dart draped over his feet. She froze when the doberman pinscher, noticing her at the doorway, lifted his head and looked in her direction, but the dog's movement didn't wake Archer. As cautiously as she'd opened the door, she closed it.

She took one last look around at what had been her lodging for the last few weeks. There was nothing of hers here, except her old uniform which was ruined anyway. Other than the cylinder, there wasn't anything she wanted or needed from this cabin. She picked up the metal cylinder, went to the door to the corridor, and, opening it, took the first step of what she hoped was her journey home.


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who has left reviews. Your comments have provided valuable encouragement. Thanks!

CHAPTER 40

Hoshi met no one in the corridors. She entered the launch bay by way of the upper level access hatch, slipping inside unnoticed. A careful survey of the area after she entered revealed that there didn't seem to be anyone about. As on her _Enterprise_, the launch bay apparently wasn't staffed unless it was in use.

Down near the launch doors, which would open outward from the underside of the starship, she saw her shuttle parked next to two shuttlepods. From the outside, there didn't appear to be anything wrong with it, but according to what T'Pol had told her, it wasn't flightworthy. Whatever had been taken apart, it must have been on the inside.

She cautiously made her way around the catwalk to the control room. She was almost to its door when a shadow moved in front of her. Startled, she stood still until she realized that the shadow had been cast by T'Pol, already in the control room and backlit by the room's lights. Through the glass observation window, she could see the Vulcan working at the main panel.

T'Pol looked up as she entered the control room. "I have installed a bypass so that the bridge will not be alerted when the launch bay doors open."

Hoshi had assumed she'd have to fly as fast as she could away from _Enterprise _and straight into an anomaly. She still would, because her departure would be picked up by the ship's sensors. But if no one knew right away that a shuttlepod was launching, she might gain valuable seconds.

"Great!" she said. Holding the metal cylinder a little higher, she asked, "Now, what are we going to do with this?"

"Our original plan of placing it in an airlock should suffice," T'Pol answered. "I will take it to the nearest one while you familiarize yourself with the controls of a shuttlepod."

"Which one?" Hoshi asked uneasily, looking through the window at the shuttlepods below. She was a novice pilot, only recently having been certified to fly her _Enterprise'_s auxiliary craft. She hoped the controls on the Imperial shuttlepods weren't too different. Otherwise, she might not make it out of the launch bay.

"Either one," T'Pol responded.

Hoshi turned the cylinder over to T'Pol, who showed not the least sign of nervousness or even regret at what they were about to attempt.

"Thanks for helping me," Hoshi said.

"Gratitude is not necessary," T'Pol responded. "We made an agreement. I am merely keeping my part of it."

_Yeah, right,_ Hoshi thought. First T'Pol had offered to help her because she thought Tucker was somehow involved in trying to kill Archer and wanted to keep it quiet. Then, just like herself, she had had doubts about the veracity of Kelby's confession. T'Pol couldn't back out of the deal because there was always the possibility that she might tell Archer that Tucker might be involved.

But Hoshi now understood this Vulcan was nothing like her counterpart. This T'Pol had seen an opportunity to advance Tucker's career, and thereby her own because of her dependence on him and his obsession with her, by using the current circumstances to remove Archer from command of _Enterprise_. If her Captain Archer had somehow let a shuttlepod be stolen out from under his nose, Hoshi knew he'd be embarrassed, and he might be reprimanded, but here, the consequences were bound to be more harsh. She had no trouble imagining that this universe's Archer would be stripped of his command, especially if Tucker and T'Pol embellished the facts to their advantage.

Hoshi decided she didn't trust this T'Pol. That the Vulcan was helping her was of no consequence, because it suited T'Pol's aims. She was certain that, if Tucker was definitely in the clear and that there was nothing for T'Pol to gain by helping her, the Vulcan would tell Archer what she'd been up to. Come to think of it, that might even raise Archer's estimation of T'Pol. Yet another reason to get out of this universe as quickly as possible -- before T'Pol could double-cross her.

"Time is of the essence," T'Pol said, cradling the cylinder in one arm and heading for the exit to the corridor. "We could be discovered at any moment. Haste is required."

That was a Vulcan way of telling her to hurry up, Hoshi assumed. But she was still unclear on a few details. "What happens after you put the cylinder in the airlock? You are coming back here, aren't you?"

T'Pol, her hand poised to open the door, turned back to her. "Yes. You should have the shuttlepod ready to depart by that time. I will open the launch bay doors. At the same time, I will open the outer airlock door, which I can accomplish from here." She indicated a switch on the console. "As soon as you have cleared the ship, set a course for the anomaly. According to my calculations, it will be very close by. Fly into it at impulse, then engage the warp engine of the shuttlepod. That should set the process in motion to send you back to your universe."

T'Pol slipped out into the corridor, leaving Hoshi staring after her.

Until now, Hoshi hadn't really thought about the magnitude of what she was going to do. For one thing, events were happening too fast to really stop and think. For another, she'd been occupied with the moment -- getting the cylinder from Reed, trying to keep Archer from figuring out she knew how to go home, not to mention avoiding his advances, and finally, cracking the code on her cabin door lock. She'd assumed that T'Pol's information was correct, and for all she knew, it was. She didn't have the background in sciences that the other woman had. But entering an anomaly, with its unusual energies, was risky under any circumstances. They'd done all sorts of weird things to her _Enterprise_.

"Nothing to it," she muttered. "Just fly the darn thing into a spatial anomaly."

She let herself out onto the catwalk and made her way down the stairs to the main floor, wondering if she'd been terribly wrong about T'Pol. Instead of trying to help her, the Vulcan might be trying to kill her.

* * *

Ensign Freeman was waylaid by a couple of acquaintances on his way back to his quarters. They talked him into playing poker in one of their cabins. Freeman's luck seemed to be turning. He ended up somewhat richer when the game finally broke up a little past midnight.

It wasn't until he was back in his own cabin, taking off his uniform, that he remembered the data chip he'd found at Sato's station on the bridge. He glanced toward the bathroom. He ought to shower and go to bed. The last thing he needed was to show up late for his shift because he'd overslept. The chip was probably nothing more than some translations of transmissions anyway. Nothing important, or she would have said something to the captain about it right away.

He got in the shower, but his mind kept returning to the data chip. The file had been awfully large, even for a subspace transmission. He decided he'd look at it when he was finished showering, if only to satisfy his curiosity.

A few minutes later, he was seated at the desk in his cabin, calling up the data chip's file, and running it through the UT to translate it. As he suspected, it was in Andorian, but he didn't understand what it was. Reading through the translation of the technical jargon was tedious, and he began to skim the material. It wasn't until he reached the end, with the summary, that he understood the importance of what he had found.

He glanced at the time in the corner of the computer screen. It was past one in the morning. The captain was surely asleep. But this was important. He imagined he'd get a promotion by bringing this to the captain's attention. If he waited to inform Archer, he might be punished for allowing her to get away.

Either way, Freeman imagined that Sato would be out of his hair forever.

Still leery of disturbing the captain, he decided he'd compromise. He'd take the data chip to the security officer, who could take it to the captain.

* * *

Hoshi was about to climb into one of the shuttlepods when she had a hunch. Turning around, she quickly went to her shuttle. The door still opened to her code; they hadn't changed that. When she climbed in, she went immediately to the pilot's seat, sat down, and began powering up systems. One by one, the indicators turned green.

T'Pol had lied to her. As far as Hoshi could tell, her shuttle could fly. In fact, there appeared to be nothing wrong with it. They must have repaired whatever damage it had incurred and had put back together whatever they'd taken apart.

She gazed unseeingly at the controls as she thought. T'Pol had to have known that the shuttle was fixed. So why would she lie and tell her to take one of the Imperial shuttlepods? The only viable answer she could come up with was that T'Pol wanted to disgrace Archer, something she'd already admitted. Whether she was doing it for Tucker or for herself was a moot point.

She looked out the front viewscreen, where one of the shuttlepods could be seen. She wouldn't put it past T'Pol to have something else up her Vulcan sleeve -- like maybe rigging the shuttlepods to explode by remote control. T'Pol could get rid of both her and Archer with one flip of a switch, so to speak. She'd be killed in the explosion, and Archer would be taken down in the aftermath.

So far, T'Pol had been running this show, gathering information, figuring out when the next anomaly would appear, instructing her to take one of the shuttlepods. Hoshi had pretty much blindly followed her lead.

That last part was about to change, Hoshi decided. There was one thing she could do to make sure the plan went her way. She climbed out of the shuttle, leaving its systems on standby, and quickly made her way back to the control room.

* * *

When Archer didn't respond to his cabin's door chime, Reed used his security clearance to override the lock on the door. Normally he wouldn't bother the captain at this time of night, but the information Freeman had brought to him couldn't wait. If the communications officer hadn't fabricated it, that is. He knew Freeman hated Sato's guts.

Now, however, with neither Archer nor Sato not answering the door, Reed was sure something wasn't right.

He rushed in, his phase pistol in hand, as soon as the door unlocked. Everything appeared as it should. Archer was soundly asleep on his bed, his dog lying nearby, awake but watchful. The door to Sato's quarters was closed.

Soundly asleep was right, Reed thought. The man hadn't woken when the door to the cabin had opened. He hadn't even stirred. Reed edged farther into the room, relaxing his guard only slightly. "Captain," he called. When there was no response, he called again, louder. "Captain Archer! Wake up!"

The captain still didn't stir, but the dog, picking up on Reed's urgency, got to its feet.

Reed hurried to the adjoining door, opened it, and stepped into Sato's quarters. There was no sign of her. Over by the door to the corridor, the cover had been taken off the access panel. He could see wires hanging out. She must have not only figured out the code to the door, but interrupted the security circuit as well, Reed realized. His irritation at what she had done was only slightly tempered by his admiration that she'd been able to do it without being caught.

He went back into Archer's cabin and, after holstering his pistol, approached the captain. Something was definitely wrong with the man. He was lying on top the bed coverings, wearing his uniform trousers and boots. A gentle shake did nothing to rouse the man. He shook him harder. "Captain! Wake up."

Archer mumbled something inaudible.

"Wake up, sir," Reed said. "Sato's trying to escape."

"Reed? What are you talking about?" Archer asked, blinking his eyes open. He feebly tried to push himself up.

Reed helped pull him to a sitting position. "She knows there's a way to return to her universe," Reed told him.

That finally got through to Archer. His eyes opened wider. "Why do I feel so groggy?"

"She must have slipped you a sedative," Reed deduced.

"Why would she do that?" Archer asked. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

Reed was rapidly becoming impatient. It was his duty to report what was going on to the captain, but if he was delayed here much longer, Sato might just make good her escape. "Because very shortly, conditions are going to be right for her to attempt to return to her universe."

Archer struggled to get to his feet, further exciting Dart, who sensed something was wrong. The dog pranced around, making a weird sound that was a combination of a growl and a whine.

"Sir, if she's to be stopped, we need to get to the launch bay now," Reed said. "I'll alert the bridge."

"No!" Archer managed to grate out. He grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair where he'd left it, moving carefully because of his wound. "I want to catch her myself."

"We must hurry, sir." Reed looked at the chronometer. "It's nine minutes before an anomaly appears, according to the information that was brought to my attention."

As Archer put on the shirt, Reed went over to the med supplies on the shelf and confirmed what he'd already told the captain. There was an empty sedative cartridge in one of the hyposprays. She must have given him that instead of the painkiller. He quickly swapped out the empty cartridge for one with painkiller, went back to Archer, and at the man's nod, injected its contents into Archer's neck.

As they hurried out the door, Dart at the captain's heels, Archer seemed to be shaking off the effects of the sedative remarkably well. Reed didn't think it had anything to do with the painkiller, but everything to do with Archer's anger at Sato's betrayal.

He smirked. There had been one or two other captain's women who had tried to run from Archer before, but never to another universe.

* * *

T'Pol stealthily made her way back to the launch bay control room. Expecting no one to be there, she was startled to see not only Sato, but her bodyguard as well.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, gesturing at Mayweather.

"Just an extra precaution," Sato told her dryly. "Oh, and I'm going to take my shuttle. It seems to be in perfect working order."

T'Pol barely managed to keep her face expressionless. She'd known Sato was intelligent, but she'd never suspected her of having the same devious tendencies of the humans in this universe. She'd seen into the other woman's mind. There was nothing there that had indicated Sato would behave like this. Sato's trust in the T'Pol of her universe had led her to believe that she herself would be trusted.

She calculated the odds of success, now that Sato had changed the equation. Her plan to install Tucker as captain relied heavily on variables, one of which was Sato's mode of transport to leave the ship. It was the most important variable, after making sure she was not suspected of aiding Sato. That variable had changed, too, now that Mayweather was here; he would report her to the captain. Despite her adherence to repression of emotion, she felt anger that this insignificant human dared to interfere with her carefully crafted plan. Her reason clouded by the primal emotion, she took a step toward Sato.

Mayweather raised the phase pistol she hadn't seen in his hand, aiming it squarely at her.

"You know about conditioning, don't you?" Sato asked.

The non-sequitur confused T'Pol. "Yes," she said, keeping her voice steady with effort.

"Good," Sato said. She turned to Mayweather. "Corporal Mayweather, your primary duty as my bodyguard has always been to protect me. I am no longer safe aboard this vessel, so I am going to leave in my shuttle. I want you to watch Commander T'Pol. She will initiate the launch sequence and open the bay doors." She took a step over to the control panel. "Make sure she presses this switch," she said, indicating the one to open the outer airlock doors which would allow the metal cylinder to be sucked out into space. "Above all, until that happens, you are to disregard any orders from anyone else, especially the captain. My life depends on it."

"Yes, ma'am," Mayweather responded.

T'Pol looked at the bodyguard. His dark eyes stared back unblinkingly. Because of his conditioning, and the precise way Sato had phrased her words, the man would follow Sato's orders. All her planning was for naught. Archer wouldn't be removed from the captaincy, Tucker would not move up to take his place, and she would not reap the benefits of having someone in command who could be more easily manipulated than Archer. Worst of all, she would be implicated in Sato's escape. She would be lucky to get out of this alive.

Or so she thought.

"Corporal Mayweather," Sato said as she edged toward the door to the catwalk, "after I leave, I want you to tell the captain that I ordered you to make T'Pol do this. She is not responsible. It was my idea to leave." She opened the door to the catwalk. "Goodbye. And thank you, Corporal Mayweather." Then she was gone.

T'Pol was confused. Sato had realized what she planned to do, but still had given her a way out. As she moved to the control panel under Mayweather's watchful gaze, despite her almost human disappointment that her plan wouldn't come to fruition, she was impressed by the nobility of the woman from the other universe, and found herself wondering what it would be like to belong there.


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: Posting a wee bit earlier than usual with this chapter because of the holiday. Hang in there. The end is in sight. No, not this chapter, but close.

CHAPTER 41

Archer forced himself to keep up with Reed as they hurried toward the launch bay. Despite the injection of painkiller, his side hurt something fierce, but he would be damned if he let Sato get away. Still trying to shake off the effects of the sedative, he hadn't decided what to do when he caught her. He would punish her, that was certain, maybe even have her thrown in the agony booth for a session. She would behave after that. But it might be in his best interest to get rid of her entirely. It didn't matter how many languages she knew, because she'd betrayed him.

He'd thought he'd finally found someone he could trust, someone worthy to be his consort.

Maybe he'd give her a chance to explain. Then he'd let Reed have her for a session in the booth.

Worst of all, he'd made a mistake. He'd told her of his plans for replacing the empire with a realm of his own design. There was no way he could allow her to leave. If anyone else found out... He refused to think of the consequences, because he wasn't going to let her get away.

He was out of breath when they reached the main doors to the launch bay. He put one hand on the wall to steady himself, the other on his throbbing side. Next to him, Dart whined as if he knew they were approaching their quarry.

"Sir," Reed said with a pointed look at his hand on his side, "Let me take care of this."

Archer gazed at his tactical officer. This man would do whatever he said. He always had in the past. But what if he was in league with Sato? He shook his head to clear away the last of the grogginess. No, he was seeing conspiracies where there were none. Reed would never betray him, simply because there was more Reed could achieve with him than without him. Reed running away with Sato was a ludicrous idea. If he had any breath to spare, he would have laughed.

"All right," Archer gasped. "But don't kill her."

"Might I suggest that you go to the control room?" Reed said.

Of course, Archer realized. Sato almost certainly had to have an accomplice who would open the launch bay doors. But although he had Dart, who would attack on command, he didn't have a weapon; he'd been in too much of a hurry and his mind had still been cloudy from the sedative to remember to put on his pistol holster before leaving his cabin. He looked at Reed, waiting to enter the launch bay. Reed was armed, but he sometimes tended to be overzealous in the performance of his duties. An unarmed Reed could still stop Sato, but he probably wouldn't kill her. "Give me your pistol," he ordered Reed.

After a moment's hesitation and a quick frown, Reed handed over his pistol.

"Take Dart with you," Archer added.

Reed started to protest. "But, sir--"

"Just do it!" Archer said. "I know you know his commands in German." He pushed off from the wall, giving Dart the hand motion to stay with Reed. "Give me one minute to get to the control room, then go in and get her."

* * *

Reed counted the seconds as Archer made his way down the corridor. The captain had been correct. Reed had taught himself enough German to be able to command the dog, shortly after Archer had obtained it, solely as a precaution in case it would ever be sicced on him. But he hadn't known that Archer had known.

He mentally shrugged. Nothing to be done about it, he supposed. Not that he expected Archer to ever set the dog on him, but it was part of his credo of being prepared for any contingency.

Archer's minute was up. Reed opened the door, looked down at the dog, and quietly commanded, "Gekommen!"

Although the dog didn't make up for the loss of his phase pistol, he was sure he could apprehend Sato, provided she hadn't already locked herself in one of the shuttlepods. In that case, it would be up to the captain to stop the launch from the control room.

* * *

Hoshi was halfway to her shuttle when she heard the main hatch to the launch bay open. She ducked behind one of the Imperial shuttlepods, holding her breath, just as the overhead lights came on. She heard slow, careful footsteps. Whoever had entered was trying to be as quiet as possible. There was another sound as well: the clicking of toe nails on the deck plating.

_Oh, no! _she thought. If Dart was here, it had to be Archer. The sedative she'd given him must have worn off.

Although she got along with the dog, she knew its first instinct was to obey Archer. The image of those sharp teeth, bared in a snarl, made her shiver. She didn't have a weapon; she hadn't thought she'd need one. Not that she wanted to shoot Dart, but she wasn't going to let anything -- including a fierce doberman pinscher for which she'd developed a fondness -- stand between her and getting home.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," came a voice with an accent she wasn't expecting.

What was Reed doing here with the dog? If anything, this was worse than Archer finding her. She tip-toed quietly toward the back of the shuttlepod and cautiously peered around its warp exhaust port. Reed, the dog padding along next to him, was on the other side of the launch bay, slowly making his way toward the parked vessels. She pulled her head back. Then to confirm what she'd seen, or rather not seen, she took another quick peek.

Reed's hands were empty, and there was no pistol in his holster.

* * *

Archer stepped into the control room to find the business end of Mayweather's pistol pointed straight at him. What was the bodyguard doing here? T'Pol, who had to be Sato's accomplice, was standing at the launch controls with her back to him. She looked over her shoulder at him as he entered.

"At ease, Corporal," he told Mayweather.

There was no reaction from the soldier.

"I said, at ease!"

"I'm sorry, Captain," Mayweather said. "I can't obey your orders until she leaves."

Archer couldn't believe what he was hearing. Mayweather disobeying orders from his captain? What had happened to his conditioning? He looked closely at the man. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his dark forehead, but there was no other sign of nervousness. His hand holding the pistol was rock steady.

"T'Pol," Archer tried, switching tactics. "Step away from the controls or I'll shoot you."

"If you do that, I'll have to shoot you, sir," Mayweather said.

"What is wrong with you, Corporal?" Archer bellowed. "Follow my orders and stand down!"

If anything, Mayweather's resolve seemed to grow stronger. "I'm sorry, sir," he said again. "My primary duty is to protect Ms. Sato. You are a threat to her safety. Until she leaves, I cannot obey your orders."

Archer's eyes narrowed. Sato had neatly tied up Mayweather's conditioning, probably with some of her verbal tricks, making sure that the bodyguard was loyal to her. Since he himself was perceived as a threat to her -- and damn right he was! -- Mayweather wouldn't obey his orders until she was safe. There was no way out of the standoff that he could see.

Damn that woman! She had gotten to Mayweather. But the joke would be on her. She wasn't going to get away. Reed would see to that.

* * *

Reed was cautiously approaching the nearest shuttlepod when Sato stepped out from behind it. His voice hard, he told her, "You are in a lot of trouble, luv."

"I wouldn't exactly say that," she answered.

She was a cocky one, he'd give her that. Her bravado in the face of failure was truly amazing. That would change, once the captain gave him the go-ahead to take her down a notch. Still, he'd take into consideration that she'd given herself up, instead of prolonging this game of hide and seek. Maybe.

His voice dripped with sarcasm as he taunted her. "Exactly what would you say?"

Sato raised her arm to point at him. "Dart!" she said loudly. _"Angriff!"_

* * *

Hoshi cringed as she ran for her shuttle. Behind her, she could hear Dart snarling as he attacked Reed, who was yelling as he tried to fight off the dog. She hadn't known Reed knew how to speak German, but Dart wasn't heeding the tactical officer's commands. She smiled grimly as she ran. She had earned the dog's trust, but Reed hadn't. Just like Mayweather, the dog was obedient to her, at least for the moment.

Then she was climbing in the shuttle, calling over her shoulder to Dart to stop his attack; she didn't want the dog to kill Reed.

She hoped Reed and the dog got out of the launch bay. Otherwise, they'd either be sucked out into space when the bay doors opened, or at the very least, they'd suffocate in the resulting vacuum before the bay could be repressurized.

She shut and locked the shuttle's hatch, and scurried to the pilot's seat. She quickly switched the vital systems from standby to full power, glancing up at the control room observation window as she did. The figures of T'Pol and Mayweather should have been illuminated clearly, but because of glare from the bay's ceiling lights, she couldn't see anything through the room's glass window.

Surely T'Pol had seen her get in the shuttle. The launch doors should be opening by now. Impatient, Hoshi engaged the controls and lifted the shuttle off the deck, moving it over the launch bay doors and making it hover in place, waiting for the bay doors to open.

Hoshi's heart began to beat more rapidly. She'd been surprised that Reed had been the one with the dog. Why hadn't she realized it sooner? If Dart was with Reed, that meant the tactical officer had to have checked on the captain. Archer might very well be in the control room.

* * *

T'Pol was able to divide her attention despite the standoff behind her. As she listened to Archer try to cajole Mayweather into lowering his weapon, she saw Sato board the shuttle. That was her cue to depressurize the launch bay and open the doors, but she waited the few seconds it took Reed to take stock of his situation -- once the dog released him, that is -- and hurry toward the exit. T'Pol wasn't about to add killing an officer to the list of offenses that would be brought against her. There was also the possibility that Mayweather would follow through on Sato's order and tell the captain that she had been forced to aid her, thereby absolving her of blame. There was a slim chance that she might come out of this situation unscathed.

But only if Sato was successful. She pressed the button to begin decompression. Warning claxons blared in the bay, sounding muffled in the control room.

"T'Pol! Stop!" she heard Archer shout behind her.

She ignored him. The bay doors began their slow outward swing. Sato had the shuttle in position, ready to drop through the opening as soon as it was wide enough. T'Pol was reaching for the switch to open the airlock to send the metal cylinder on its way when she was slammed against the control panel from behind.

The captain had shot her, she realized dully as she crumpled to the floor. Unfortunately, she hadn't thrown the switch to open the airlock. As her consciousness faded, she thought it would have been better if the captain's weapon had been set to kill, for she was sure to face his full wrath once he retrieved Sato and forced the truth from her.

* * *

Mayweather wasn't surprised that the captain had shot T'Pol. He'd been expecting it. And it confirmed what Sato had told him about being in danger. He'd never seen the captain so angry or out of control.

A second after Archer shot T'Pol, Mayweather shot Archer. The captain fell to the floor next to the body of the science officer.

Then Mayweather reached over to the control panel and threw the switch that Sato had shown him.

* * *

It was all Hoshi could do keep from ramming the launch bay doors with the shuttle. This was taking too long! She tried to steady her breathing, telling herself that in a matter of minutes, she would be back where she belonged, safe and sound, in her universe.

She felt one tiny doubt. Would her _Enterprise _be there to meet her? She seriously doubted it would be. They'd probably given up looking for her some time ago. But even if the ship wasn't in the vicinity, she'd be back in her universe. She'd just take it from there. She was sure she could find her way to a world with sufficient technology that would allow her to contact Starfleet.

With a start, she realized she hadn't thought of bringing any type of provisions with her, in case she would be in the shuttle for an extended period. There should be emergency rations aboard the shuttle, but she hadn't had time to check to see if they were still there. For all she knew, as bad as the food was in the mess hall here, the rations had been pilfered.

It was too late to do anything about it now. The important thing was to get the shuttle launched. She edged it down closer as the opening between the launch bay doors grew wider.

At last, a readout on the navigation panel indicated the doors had opened sufficiently to allow her to get through. She set the shuttle to drop down and out, but in her haste, she scraped the port side of the small vessel against one of the launch bay doors. A horrendous shriek echoed through the cabin. She held her breath as the shuttle continued to drop, but there was no serious damage that she could detect.

Once clear of _Enterprise_, she turned the shuttle in the direction where the anomaly should be. One look at it and she almost changed her mind. The writhing mass of energy filled most of her screen. She'd be insane to fly into that.

With a muttered curse, repeated in several languages, she input commands to enter the anomaly at impulse. She checked another screen. It showed the cylinder, drifting away from _Enterprise_. T'Pol hadn't said whether it also had to be in the anomaly, and she wasn't really sure it was a good idea to try to waste valuable time trying to snag it and take it with her. The bridge crew may not have known a launch was in progress, but they'd surely detected her little craft on the sensors by now.

She set a course around a conveniently large asteroid -- to block both weapons' fire and grappling hooks -- and engaged the impulse engine at full speed.

Ready or not, she was about to take the biggest gamble of her life.


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: The longest chapter, since there are some things to wrap up, but the last. Thanks to everyone who stuck with this the whole way!

CHAPTER 42

_ABOARD THE ISS ENTERPRISE_

Cunningham missed Sato, but he wasn't the only one. He'd never seen the captain so moody and withdrawn, ever since she'd left a few days ago. He frowned as he removed the half-eaten meal from the table in the captain's cabin. Archer's appetite had been severely curtailed since her departure, too.

He thought the dog missed her, too. Dart kept staring at the door to the adjoining cabin, as if he expected her to walk through at any moment.

The steward sighed. It was sad that she was gone. She'd been good for the captain. Too bad the captain hadn't realized it at the time. Maybe if he had, he would have treated her better, and she wouldn't have thought it was necessary to go back to where she had come from. He wasn't sure what the captain had done to her, but he had to have done something to make her run away.

He couldn't really blame her. She was smart enough to see the down side to being a captain's woman. So many of them wound up being thrown out like trash when the captain was tired of them. But unlike the others, who had adopted snooty airs when they took up residence in the adjoining cabin, she had treated him like a person, not a piece of the furniture.

Cunningham would remember her fondly for that.

* * *

Corporal Mayweather was undergoing additional conditioning after protecting Sato long enough for her to get away.

Colonel Hawthorne had seemed sympathetic to his situation, since Mayweather had been following his primary orders as was expected under conditioning. He was to obey Archer, who had given his authority over him to Sato, and who in turn had specifically ordered him to protect her from Archer. That it could be argued that Mayweather couldn't be held entirely accountable for the way things had turned out because of his conditioning was probably the only thing that had kept him from standing in front of a firing squad.

To say the captain had been displeased was an understatement. Mayweather didn't know if it was because Sato had gotten away or because he'd shot the captain. Probably both, he reasoned with his usual equanimity. But, the captain had ordered that his conditioning be reinforced after Hawthorne had told him that there was no valid reason to discipline him too harshly.

As Mayweather neared the end of his reconditioning session, he thought it ironic that Archer was mad at him because he'd only been doing what he'd always done -- follow orders.

* * *

Ensign Freeman was happy. He had his communications station all to himself again. So what if the captain was a little upset that his pet from another universe had managed to slip her lead?

It was going to be a pain to have to do all the translations himself again, but he could live with that. And if any of the translations were incorrect, he could always blame the UT, like he had before she had shown up.

He might be only a communications officer, but he was the lead communications officer on the Imperial fleet's flagship. The only person who could have taken that away from him was long gone.

* * *

Commander Tucker made sure he avoided Archer for a few days after Sato managed to run away. Since he was no longer needed on the bridge, he was more than happy to stay in engineering. Besides, despite Kelby's bumbling ways, the man had managed to get some work done when he was here. Now Tucker had to rework the department duty roster to make up for being one engineer short.

If Tucker was honest with himself, engineering was really where he belonged, no matter that T'Pol seemed to think he would make a better captain than Archer.

Poor Kelby! Tucker never would have thought that he had the gumption to try to kill the captain. Just went to show, he thought, that you can't always know the true nature of a person.

Then there was Phlox, who had finally come out of hibernation. Seems he wasn't responsible for trying to kill the captain, after all. He said he couldn't remember what he'd done. The mood Archer was in, Tucker knew he wasn't about to take the Denobulan's word for it. No, Archer had ordered T'Pol do a mind meld on him. Afterward, she had reported that there was some sort of imbalance affecting Phlox's short-term memory. Although T'Pol couldn't figure out what exactly had happened, she'd been certain someone had induced Phlox against his will to try to poison the captain. She didn't name names, but Tucker's money was on Kelby, although how that dimwit could have messed with Phlox's mind was beyond him.

He'd never seen Archer in such a foul mood. At least they were due to leave the asteroid field with its strange spatial anomalies; they'd stopped appearing, anyway. Attending the inauguration of the new Andorian chancellor -- who had been selected by the Imperial Council -- might cheer up the captain. If not, there was always the chance some Andorians might riot while they were there. Stamping out an uprising always made Jonny feel better.

* * *

Reed was a terror in the armory. He found fault with everything his staff was doing. Even as he barked at them, he realized his irritability was the result of his failing the captain.

He'd let her get away! He'd had her cornered, and as she'd stepped out from behind a shuttlepod, he'd seen that she didn't have a weapon. He never would have thought that she'd turn the captain's dog on him. As it was, he was lucky to get away with only a few deep gouges on his forearm that he'd held up to prevent the dog from ripping his throat out.

And yet, she'd called off the beast. She hadn't had to do that. Both he and the dog had run for the door, making it out of the launch bay in the nick of time. He didn't think he'd ever understand why she'd spared his life. Maybe it was her fondness for the dog, he thought sarcastically, and saving his life had been unavoidable.

But one thing he did know was that, no matter how clever she was, she didn't have the killer instinct. She had helped protect and take care of Archer when he needed it, yes, but only because without Archer, her life would be worth very little. He was also sure there would have come a time when she'd let Archer down. It had just happened a lot sooner than Reed had thought it would.

Fortunately, Archer was still in command of _Enterprise_. If fleet command had seen fit to replace him after letting Sato get away and losing a shuttle from another universe, Tucker probably would have been promoted to captain. Reed didn't know if he could tolerate that.

Usually not one to be philosophical, Reed nevertheless thought it was best that Sato was no longer on board. Archer could continue his slow but steady rise through fleet ranks, and Reed's own position would improve, as long as he stuck with Archer.

Still, she'd been a pretty little thing. But not having her was a small price to pay to ensure that both his and Archer's careers continued on course.

* * *

T'Pol didn't believe in luck, but she did realize that she had been fortunate. Her time-consuming plan to install Tucker as captain had fallen apart quite rapidly, all because of one human from another universe. And yet, here she was, working at the science station on the bridge, as if none of it had happened.

That wasn't totally accurate, she corrected herself, looking down at the command well. Archer was seated there, brooding as he gazed at the asteroids on the main viewscreen. The captain had been severely affected. She hadn't realized he'd developed deep feelings for Sato, which probably explained why he was overreacting, especially since he'd received nothing more than a reprimand from fleet command.

If anyone had a right to be angry with Sato, it was her. She'd worked diligently on Phlox, planting subconscious cues in his mind over the course of months, to kill Archer when the opportunity arose. She'd taken every precaution, going so far as to implant the suggestion that, if he was caught, he would say a male crew member had forced him to poison the captain, further diverting suspicion from her. And if all that failed, she was aware that painful questioning in the agony booth would trigger his hibernation cycle, a defensive mechanism of Denobulan physiology, thus buying her a few days to rectify the situation.

But Sato had ruined it.

In retrospect, T'Pol realized her decision to affect the memory center of Phlox's brain had been prudent. He'd had no recollection of his attempt to kill Archer. When the captain had ordered her to mind meld with the doctor after his hibernation had ended, she'd made sure that Phlox's buried memories surrounding her involvement were eradicated. No one would know she'd been the instigator.

After the failed poisoning, she had turned her attention to Kelby. It had been difficult, for she'd had only a brief time to indoctrinate him. Her haste had been her undoing. She had allowed Kelby to think she was interested in him, and as he'd taken advantage of what she'd offered, she'd forced a mind meld. He'd had no memory of the incident -- meld or intimacy -- but he'd followed her implanted suggestions perfectly. Unfortunately, his attempt to manufacture a bomb had failed because of his poor engineering skills.

And although Sato hadn't been solely responsible for thwarting Kelby's attempt, she'd been present during it, and from what Tucker had told her, had been instrumental in pointing the finger of suspicion at Kelby. So she'd lost another tool in her effort to replace Archer with Tucker, whom she could manipulate as long as she was willing to endure his insults.

She had considered using Tucker himself to kill Archer. It wasn't uncommon for lower-ranking human officers to kill their superiors. Despite her influence over his mind, however, there had to be sufficient motivation for Tucker to commit murder, and even though he desired to be captain, he was one of the few humans she knew who was astute enough to recognize the value of his true talents, which were in engineering and not command.

There would come another opportunity, T'Pol knew. But for the time being, it would be best to leave things as they were. She'd continue her relationship with Tucker, taking care not to let him suspect what she was doing. Then, when the time was right, he would become captain, and she would control Tucker.

* * *

Archer had been dealt setbacks before, but this one hurt to the extent that it was almost a physical pain. It was rare that a member of the crew would betray him; the ensuing punishment was swift and severe enough to ensure that it didn't happen often. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone executed until Kelby had come along. Maybe the crew had been overdue for a reminder.

True, Sato hadn't been a member of the crew. But she could have been. She had performed many valuable tasks, including saving his life on Shran's ship, if his tactical officer was to be believed. She'd definitely saved him from the poison in sickbay. She'd taken good care of him as he'd been recuperating from his injury. He'd actually begun to start to feel something for her other than pride in having a valuable tool for his rise to power.

He thought it only natural that he'd decided to make her his consort. Once he was in charge, he'd want to make sure his lineage continued. Now he realized he'd been premature in telling her.

What was so shocking was that, until she'd left, she had given him no reason to distrust her. In fact, just the opposite. He had been blindsided by what she had done.

He consoled himself by thinking that it was better this had happened now, rather than later. He doubted Sato had had a chance to tell anyone here about his plans for a new universal order.

Somehow Sato had found out it was possible to return to her own universe. Maybe she'd already been planning it when he'd told her of his own plans. According to T'Pol, when confronted by Sato and her bodyguard, the Vulcan had had no choice but to comply with Sato's wishes.

If there was one thing that Sato had taught Archer, it was that he couldn't trust anyone. He cast a look over his left shoulder to where T'Pol was sitting at the science station. He didn't totally buy her story, but Mayweather had supported it. There wasn't much he could do about it at the moment.

For the time being, he'd let things go on as they were, but he'd keep an eye on T'Pol. He wouldn't be surprised if she was the one who was really behind the attempts on his life -- with or without Tucker's help. Because there was one other thing of which he was certain: Although Kelby had made the bomb, he had been a scapegoat.

* * *

_ABOARD ENTERPRISE NX-01_

Hoshi woke on a biobed. She felt disoriented, as if she was swimming underwater.

A face with with sharp gray eyes moved into her field of vision to stare down at her. "Finally back with us, are you?" The voice was that of a man she had come to distrust as well as detest over the last few weeks. She remembered his sarcastic and often suggestive comments only too well.

But now he was going too far, for he was pushing a stray strand of her hair away from her face. How dare he touch her like that! Without thinking, she slapped him resoundingly in the face.

As the man jerked his head back from the blow, she shot up on the bed, only to fall back as everything whirled dizzily around her.

"What was that for?" the man asked her in surprise before turning to call out, "Doctor! She's awake!"

Hoshi blinked. The man was wearing the blue jumpsuit uniform of her _Enterprise_. Best of all, there was nothing of cruelty, depravity, or anger in his manner. If anything, he acted as if she'd stung not just his cheek, but his feelings.

She was back where she belonged. She had made it! She started to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Hoshi?" asked Malcolm, rubbing his abused cheek and looking at her in concern. "What's the matter?"

"I'm...sorry," she gasped between laughs and sobs. "It's just...you...I mean...you aren't--" She had to stop as her relieved crying threatened to choke her.

"Out of my way, Mister Reed," Doctor Phlox said as he bustled up to the biobed. "Please inform the captain that she's awake while I check her."

"I think she's hysterical," Malcolm said as walked toward the intercom panel by the main sickbay doors.

"I'll be the judge of that," Phlox said, checking the monitors. He looked down at his patient. "How are you feeling?" he asked kindly.

A tremulous smile lit Hoshi's face as she caught her breath. This was _her _Phlox -- professional, but kind and concerned. This was her friend. "Fantastic!"

"Hmmm," Phlox said, returning his attention to the monitors. "My instruments seem to corroborate that rather imprecise term. Except for some indications of stress -- elevated blood pressure, for one thing, but it seems to be returning to normal -- you are in relatively good health." He looked down at her. "Can you tell me what happened to you?"

How could she forget? She could vividly recall her time in the other universe. But she had no recollection of anything after she'd flown the shuttle into the anomaly and engaged the warp engine in her desperate effort to get home. "First, can you tell me how I got here?" she asked as Malcolm returned.

Malcolm told her, "We received a report from a Boomer cargo ship that a Starfleet shuttle was drifting without power in the asteroid field."

"You were unconscious when they found you," Phlox added. "They brought you on board their ship, and when we arrived, transferred you to us. There were indications you were subjected to an unusual form of radiation, but it seems to have dissipated. You've been unconscious for two days."

"Two days!" Hoshi almost shot up on the bed again, but Phlox put out a hand, firm yet gentle, to stop her.

"You couldn't have been on the shuttle the whole three weeks you were missing," Malcolm said. "None of the onboard emergency rations had been touched. Besides, you seem to have changed your clothing."

Hoshi glanced down at herself. She was still in the lavender jumpsuit. "I wasn't on the shuttle," she said. "I was someplace that looked like here."

Malcolm traded a puzzled glance with Phlox, then looked back at her. "What are you talking about, Hoshi?"

Before she could speak, Phlox cut in. "Why don't we wait until the captain arrives. That way she won't exhaust herself telling her tale twice. Ah!" he said as the sickbay doors opened. "That was quick, Captain."

"I was just down the corridor in my private dining room, having breakfast with T'Pol," Jon answered, gesturing at his companion, as he approached the bed.

Hoshi stared with wide eyes at them. A shudder of revulsion rippled through her before she reminded herself that these were _her _Captain Archer and Commander T'Pol. She let her gaze roam from face to face of the people surrounding her bed, drinking in the kindness and compassion she saw there. Even T'Pol had an expression that approximated concern.

"Are you all right?" Jon asked.

"I will be now," Hoshi answered, fighting against breaking into tears again. She tried to sit up but was so weak she could hardly move. Phlox, seeing what she was trying to do, adjusted the bed so that she was in a more upright position.

"So, where have you been?" Jon asked. "Surely not the asteroid field, because we scoured it for days after you went missing. We couldn't find a trace of you."

"I was in another universe," Hoshi said.

Dead silence greeted her remark. They didn't believe her. She continued, "It was just like this universe. There was a Captain Archer, a Commander T'Pol...almost all of the crew had counterparts there. But Travis was a corporal in a combat troop unit."

Jon stared at her for a long moment after she finished speaking, then looked at Phlox. "Did she injure her head?"

"There are signs she may have had a concussion in the recent past," the doctor answered. "But she's not hallucinating, if that's what you are asking." He pointed at a readout on a screen above the bed. "You may find this interesting, Captain. Recognize it?"

T'Pol took a step closer to the screen. "That is the same radiation that was present in the asteroid field after Ensign Sato's shuttle disappeared. As my initial research indicated, it is the result of energy conduction by a rare metal found on Risa. But we found no trace of the metal in the vicinity."

"You're kidding!" Hoshi said.

"I do not 'kid,'" T'Pol said.

If they'd picked up a radiation signature for the metal after she'd disappeared, that meant the cylinder had been from her universe to begin with. A freak accident -- the shuttle's warp engine engaging in proximity to the cylinder -- had sent her to that other universe. The anomalies in that other universe may not have had any bearing on it at all. In fact, her arrival may have caused them. "Are we near the asteroid field where the shuttle disappeared?" she asked.

"Yes," Jon said. "That's where the Boomer ship found you."

"Well, check now and I bet that metal cylinder is out there somewhere," she told him.

"A cylinder?" Malcolm asked.

"You thought it was a weapon," Hoshi said. "I mean, the person who was you in the other universe thought it was. You...I mean 'he'...was surprised when I told him it wasn't."

Jon, T'Pol and Malcolm all stared at her, then started to talk at the same time. Phlox held up his hand. "Wait! Might I suggest that we allow Ensign Sato to tell her story in a calm and orderly manner? Then you can ask questions."

A wry smile crossed Jon's face as he graciously deferred to Phlox's request. This was definitely her captain, Hoshi thought, for she'd never seen such gracious acquiescence from that other Archer. Past Jon, she saw a half smile on Malcolm's face, and there was even a twinkle in T'Pol's normally serene eyes.

Hoshi sighed contentedly. It was good to be home.

THE END


End file.
